Changing Fate
by Made Nightwing
Summary: Operative Jaqueline Harper: Cerberus Loyalist, adopted daughter of The Illusive Man. Miri Lawson: Subject Zero of the Teltin Project, convicted criminal. biotic powerhouse. Somehow, they must put aside their differences and help Shepard stop the Reapers.
1. Prologue 1: Subject Zero

Changing Fate

Chapter One: Prologue One: Subject Zero

I don't own Bioware

**SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA**

**EARTH**

**2165**

"Jack, glad you were able to make it for the game," Richard Lawson gave a hearty hand shake to the tall man in golfing clothes next to him.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy Rick," Jack laughed as he shouldered his bag. "Shall we get started? I understand this course is a tough one."

"Of course," Lawson led the way out onto the pitch. The caddy set up the ball and took a step back as the lanky businessman lined up his shot. "How are things going with your three headed dog?"

Jack Harper watched the white globe fly down the pitch and roll to a stop at the edge of the green, he smiled with faint amusement. "Very nicely. The new market in medi-gel is blooming. Three of the cells are in very good positions to take advantage of that growth."

"Human ingenuity," Lawson commented. "One of my contacts in the parliament says that the Council's offered us a full embassy on the Citadel."

"Scraps thrown to us to keep us sated," Jack hit the ball with extra force, sending it right onto the green. "They don't trust us, and further more than that, they're slightly scared of us. The turians in particular. Those are the ones we have to watch out for, the turians."

"I've heard rumours about your encounters with them," Lawson began walking toward the green, the caddies following behind. "I always assumed..."

"To assume makes an ass out of you and me," Jack chuckled. "Another conflict with the Hierarchy is inevitable. We will face them again someday. And next time, we'll be the ones doing the bombarding."

"Well spoken," reaching his ball, Lawson selected his putter. "Is that why you've built a facility on Pragia? Specially outfitted with biotic damping tech if I'm not mistaken?"

"Now who told you about that?" Jack mused. "My best bet would be Operative Collins. His mother works for you doesn't she?"

"My best research analyst," Lawson agreed, clipping the ball toward the hole. An unseen lump in the surface of the green deflected it to the right. "You shouldn't blame the boy, just don't trust him with information that I might find interesting."

"Agreed," Jack paused as Richard lined up another shot, this one went in. "I assume you want to talk about more than how many sources you have in my infrastructure?"

"You're abnormally interested in the new biotics program Jack," Richard took a step aside. "What do you find so intriguing about them? Conatix completely failed to exploit the potential of that group on Jump Zero. That young boy, Kaidan, I think? He was the only one to even demonstrate some useful abilities. Killed an instructor, but only when his own life was threatened."

"Which is why I authorised the new facility on Pragia," Harper's tone remained reasonable. "I want to jump biotic research forward twenty, may be fifty years forward. We won't repeat BAaT's mistakes. Keep this strictly in house, humans only. There's a lot of children out there with biotic potential. The batarians have taken a lot in slaving raids. We'll buy them back, put them in a learning environment and see what happens."

"You always were a philanthropist," Lawson commented. "What's your endgame?"

"The same endgame I've always had," Jack chipped the golf ball into the cup. "Human dominance. I want the facility to unlock true biotic potential in humans. The facility has room to house a hundred students comfortably, plus the necessary scientific facilities. We've run into a snag though."

"Yes I heard," Richard frowned. "You need a Zero Subject. Someone to embody all of the successes."

"Exactly," they began walking toward the next hole. "None of the candidates we've reviewed have the necessary biotic potential for the experiment. I want someone special for that position. I've ordered that the environment be kept non-lethal, but there might be accidents. I want my Subject Zero to be above all that."

"I might be able to help you there," Richard lowered his tone. "You remember my daughter Miranda?"

"I believe so," Jack nodded absentmindedly. "Number Four isn't she? The one that you were finally satisfied with."

"Unfortunately not," Lawson shook his head. "She's five years old now, eager to please, but I'm afraid there was a mistake along the way. Her biotic potential is less than half of what I had hoped for, at least, at current levels. Her IQ is almost good enough, but not quite satisfactory. And although I'm not yet sure, we think her reproductive system might have been damaged during development. She will be unable to carry a child to term. Completely unacceptable, and for that I blame myself, not her. Fortunately, we have her little sister, 'Orianna' I called her. She is essentially Miranda, but with a selection of improvements that make Miranda obsolete."

"I see," Jack raised an eyebrow. "And what happens to Miranda?"

"I was going to send her to live with her sisters, in isolation up in the Alps," Lawson frowned. "But if she's going to be safe, living in a comfortable environment, then it would be far kinder to give her to you, to be your Subject Zero. While not up to my standards, her biotic ability is impressive, and will only continue to grow. She could be very useful to..."

"Don't say it!"

"Cerberus," the name slipped out. He immediately looked contrite. "I'm sorry Jack, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's alright," Harper stared about, his alert eyes searching for any indication of spies around the area. "I just need to be extra careful while I'm on Earth. So you'd like me to take your daughter off your hands?"

"If you wouldn't mind. Better to give her a purpose to work towards. Who knows? Maybe she'll be a real asset to Cerberus someday."

"Or maybe she'll die because my techs get something wrong. Can you live with that?"

Lawson shrugged. "All humans die. It's what we leave behind that really matters."

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**THREE WEEKS LATER**

**LAWSON ESTATE**

**BROKEN HILL, AUSTRALIA**

Terraforming technology had come a long way since the humble experimentations in bio-engineered crops in the early twenty first century. What had been barren scrub a hundred years earlier was now good, arable farmland. Richard Lawson owned four thousand acres of that farmland, some of it rented out for farming, most of it for his own personal use, whenever he was able to make it home. This meant that there were almost three thousand acres, entirely uninhabited, available for exploration...and adventure.

This suited Niket Barnes just fine. His family was from this land, his father, grandfather and great grandfather had spent their lives caring for this land. His grandfather had begun working for Francis Lawson, back when the emerging magnate first purchased the whole area. He had formed a hearty friendship with the farmer, and hired him to be the groundskeeper for his estate. Niket's father, Thomas, had eventually taken over the job, and when Richard Lawson inherited his father's empire, he had kept him on, despite the dislike between the two men.

Niket could remember Adrianna Lawson, the sweet tempered wife of his father's boss. She had come across him one day, reading Plato's _Republic_ in her garden. Instead of scolding him, she sat down with him.

"_Heavy reading for a seven year old," her laugh was gentle, not mocking. He was defensive._

"_I like it. He's talking about a perfect society. An orderly one."_

"_It's a police state he talks about," she smiled. "One in which personal liberty, argument and opinions are all crushed."_

"_But it's safe!" He protested. "There isn't any crime."_

_She stared at him seriously. "Would you be willing to sacrifice your freedom for a lifetime of safety?"_

It had begun a year of friendship between them. Niket's mother had died while he was young. In many ways, Adrianna Lawson had filled that role, caring for him like he was her own. They would read for hours in that garden, or go for long rides out along the river, or even play badminton. She always let him at badminton, that was something he never forgot.

It wasn't meant to last. Her pale skin had whitened; she stopped playing games and riding. More men came in and out of the mansion, Mr. Lawson began looking worried. One day, he'd gone to look for her in the garden...and she wasn't there. A genetic defect in her nervous system, present since childbirth, had eventually weakened and destroyed her body's ability to repel harmful bacteria. Her death almost destroyed her husband; he had left Earth, left his house for almost seven years.

And then, in 2160, five years after the Systems Alliance had made contact with the Citadel and the Council, Richard Lawson had returned, holding a small bundle in his arms. Niket had heard whispers from the household staff, rumours about 'adoption' and 'genetic engineering' hadn't much interested the teenager. At his age, he was more concerned about passing the end of year exams.

It was until 2163, when he had snatched a small, dark haired child out of the path of a charging tiger snake and crushed the vicious reptile underneath his boot heel, that Niket Barnes had finally met Miranda Lawson. The three year old had immediately latched onto him. For two years, the pair were inseparable. Wherever Niket went, Miranda tagged along after him. This earned Niket many a wrathful word from her father. Miranda spent more time going riding and camping with Niket than she did studying.

A direct order to stay away from her was briefly obeyed, until Miranda, only four years old at the time, sprung the lock on her room, and sneaked out to the comfortable house where Niket lived with his father, and meekly requested a bedtime story. He was her 'cool big brother'.

She had sobbed when he had jumped on the bus to the airport, dressed in a set of fatigues, newly accepted into the Alliance Marine Corps. Miranda didn't want him to leave. She had even forged a video message from Alliance Command, telling him that unfortunately, he had been turned down. If it hadn't been for her ever so slight lisp, he might have believed it.

And now, two weeks later, Niket found himself walking back down the road towards his house. An afternoon wind had kicked up some dust, coating him head to foot in the red substance.

"_I'm sorry son," Gunnery Chief Bonham pulled him out of line. "You're going home. Medical report just came in."_

How was it that humanity could cure almost fatal wounds, and defeat diseases that had plagued the planet for millennia, but couldn't come up with a solution for the previously dormant heart condition that had appeared during the opening stages of boot camp? He was unfit to serve humanity, his blood pressure unable to cope with the rigorous physical exercise.

The only thing that might brighten up his day would be Miranda's face when she saw he was back. He expected a bone crushing hug, followed by a display of the new biotic skills she had learnt while he was away.

Yep, it'd be good to see his little 'sister' again.

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**NUBIAN EXPANSE, DAKKA SYSTEM**

**PRAGIA**

**THE TELTIN FACILITY**

The Batarian Hegemony had rubbed their hands in collective delight when scout ships reported that the fertile soil of Pragia absolutely perfect for mass production of crops. But when the bio-engineered produce began to bloom, it bloomed in a big way. Unchecked, unchallenged, the plants mutated and overran the colonists in a matter of days. In roughly four hundred years, ecologists predicted that the rampant growth would lead to complete soil exhaustion. The planet was used as a textbook example by colonial development professors reminding their students of the necessity of environmental regulations.

It was to this planet that Cerberus came, burning away a massive portion of the jungle, and erecting a massive prefabricated structure. The Illusive Man had provided more than adequate funds for the provision of comfortable living quarters for all occupants. Dr. Colin Piper did not believe all those funds needed to funnelled into something as useless as creature comforts. The children would be housed in the same conditions as the guards, bearable, but not luxurious.

Any combat soldier could have told Piper that what was appropriate for a paid soldier was not necessarily so for a child, particularly the kind of children they would be receiving. They were orphans mostly, scarred, messed up, abused for months in the captivity of batarian slavers. They came in small boxes, barely big enough to sit in. Unpacked by impassive, helmeted guards, sent straight to the cells, given plates of tasteless stew and high protein bars to eat. And eat they did, every one of them was a developing biotic, with the appetite to match.

Seven weeks the facility had been running. There had been a brief outbreak of rats, but that had quickly died down. Piper had been horrified to discover that the more desperate children had killed, cooked and eaten the rodents before they could spread. Security Chief Mason had just grunted. A survivor of the Alliance's Survival, Escape, Reconnaissance and Evasion School, he had eaten worse things than rats in his time.

The Chief was at least attempting to make things bearable for the 'students'. He ensured that his guards weren't appropriating the children's rations for themselves, issued extra blankets, and forced Piper to convert two of main storage areas into exercise yards. Mason wasn't a cruel man, just a tired one. This was supposed to be his twilight assignment. His retirement was coming up in a year. Making sure security was tight for the Teltin Facility, was an easy, albeit unsettling job.

"What do you need all this junk for?" Mason gestured to the crates of equipment.

"Some of it is autopsy equipment for the morgue, the rest of it is for the bio-lab," Piper returned irritably.

"What do you need a morgue for?" the Chief raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said these experiments were non-lethal?"

"I did, and they are," Piper soothed him. "The morgue will mainly be for the animal test subjects. And if there is an occasional accident, well then we'll need to find out the cause of the malfunction, to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, okay then," he paused long enough for a buzz to come from his earpiece. He clicked it onto 'Receive'. =This is Mason...Yeah, I'm with him now...Alright, I'll tell him=

Turning back to Piper, it struck him just how frail the scientist looked. He was thin, pale, and balding. A weak beard decorated his chin. And he was short. The kind of man who just by looking at, you could he got bullied in school by the jocks, and grew up with a massive inferiority complex. No personal power of his own, just his intellect. Once Mason was gone, this guy would be in charge of all these kids. Mason felt his heart sink.

"Transport says that your special package has arrived and is waiting for you."

"Excellent," Piper scuttled along the catwalk. "Come on Mason, I'm sure you'll find this interesting."

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"It's just another kid," Mason looked through the peephole into the room. He had wondered why Piper had ordered his men to set up this section as a bedroom. The two way mirror set up overlooking the exercise yard puzzled him even more. "I've seen plenty of them so far."

The dark haired little girl was crouching in the corner, head moving slightly as she looked around, taking in every inch of the room. Strange, she wasn't crying. All of the others, even the tough ones, had been balling their eyes out when they were brought in. Crying for mommy and daddy. This one was just watching...observing. Saving her strength and resistance for when it would be most useful.

"You are looking at Subject Zero," Piper suddenly had an air of confidence about him. "She is a very special little girl. She is going to be our key to unlocking true biotic potential in humans. The others? They're just small pieces. Subject Zero is our endgame. I should probably give her the whole 'service to humanity' speech that I gave the others, shouldn't I?"

"Why bother?" For the first time, Mason felt sick with himself. His hands slowly balled into fists. "This one won't believe you."

Piper could sense the hostility emanating from the security chief. "In that case I'll see you later."

Mason didn't even acknowledge his departure. Stepping back, he typed his security code into the lock and stepped through the door. He regretted it almost immediately. Piercing, icy blue eyes locked with his tired brown ones.

"Who are you?" Her voice was small, but demanding. She wasn't like the others. This one was accustomed to getting her own way.

"I'm a guard." It seemed the best way to introduce himself. Stay safely neutral.

"I want to see Niket."

"Who is Niket?"

"My big brother." Her own fists were clenched. She was trying not to show fear. Mason was amazed. If she stood up, she would not even reach his waist, yet she spoke with an authority far beyond her years. "He's a Marine. He'll come and fight you if you don't let me go."

"No one can find you here," there was no point in lying. "But if you like, I can make your stay as comfortable as possible. Is there anything you want?"

"I want to see Niket."

He shook his head. "Not going to happen."

"I want to speak to my father. He'll sort this entire thing out."

"Still can't help you on that front," Mason turned toward the door. "Even my comms are limited. If that's all you wanted then..."

"Books."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me, I'd like some books please. Something to read," a solitary tear was rolling down her cheek. She didn't want to show weakness in front of a stranger, but no matter how smart she was, she was five years old, alone, cold and terrified. "And something to eat too, if you have any food."

Taking a protein bar out of his pocket, he threw it to her. "Food's not very good here, but we do have some OSD's with some books on them. Would you like a fairy tale?"

"My preference is for classical literature," she lowered her head. "And I would greatly appreciate it if you could arrange an extranet call to Earth."

"I'll see what I can do. Goodbye...Subject Zero."

"Miranda," her head snapped up. "My name is Miranda Lawson."

A wave of self-loathing hit Mason in the gut. "I'm sure it used to be."

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"Where's Miranda?" Niket stared Mr. Lawson dead in the eye. To his credit, the billionaire didn't flinch.

"There was an accident, she fell of her horse and was trampled," he spoke softly. "The funeral was a few days ago."

"How come I didn't hear about it?"

"You were in isolation weren't you?" Lawson's voice was mildly contemptuous. "I would be concerned if Alliance Marines busied themselves with the death of my daughter, instead of the protection of humanity."

Niket was astounded by the coldness in the man's voice. "Be that as it may sir, but how could Miri have fallen off? I taught her to ride myself, and Buck's the safest horse on the estate."

"Clearly not as safe as you thought," Richard turned away from him. "Rest assured, I do not blame you Niket. In fact, I believe if you had been here, none of this would have happened."

Unsure of how to respond, Niket kept silent. Lawson continued.

"This sad occurrence comes just as I was about to announce something most joyful," snapping his fingers, he beckoned a matronly woman into the room. Held gently in her arms was a sleeping baby. "You see Mr. Barnes, I didn't want my daughter to grow up as an only child. This is Orianna, Miranda's genetic twin sister."

Orianna was woken by the sound of voices. Yawning widely, she gazed around at the people in the room, chubby hands rubbing sleep from her eyes. Niket took her, holding her gently. "She's beautiful."

"I know," Richard nodded. "I will not allow anything to happen to her Niket. I understand, with your discharge from the Marines, you are looking for a job? I have one for you. I want you to be Orianna's comapion, protector, bodyguard and watchdog. You'll look after her, keep her safe until she's an adult."

"Why me?"

"Miranda took to you straight away, I'm hoping that Orianna will do the same." He rested his hand on Niket's shoulder. "It's a lifetime employment option Mr. Barnes. You can name your price, I won't allow negligence to ever again harm my family."

"I'd do it for free if you asked me," Niket held a finger against Orianna's chin. She grabbed it and examined it contemplatively. "I just wish I could have been here to save Miranda."

"I know," Lawson's voice hadn't changed from its businesslike tone since the conversation started. "I'm sure we'll all recover from the loss someday. I'll leave you and Orianna to get acquainted."

Orianna gurgled happily as Niket gently poked her stomach. He smiled bitterly. "Hello Orianna. I'm glad to meet you."

She cocked her head slightly, staring up at his face.

"Would you like to know something?"

She didn't look away. He leaned in closer.

"I'm going to save you Orianna. I'm going to save you from him."

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**A/N: My buddy in Air Force combat comms was talking with me about ME2 and how it is the greatest game known to mankind. The talk got onto Love Interests, he's a pretty big Jack fan. Naturally, we discussed what might have happened if Miranda's father had offered her forward as a test subject, and The Illusive Man decided to take the little girl with huge biotic potential from Eden Prime under his wing.**

**Since I'm coming off the success of Predators (Still a little astounded at how popular it was), I figured I'd get onto the idea while it was still fresh in my mind. First few chapters will set out backstory: Jack being taken by Cerberus, Miranda's escape from Pragia, their lives as defined by their personalities. I will be playing around with in game canon a lot, but I'm hoping that I can make it work.**


	2. Prologue 2: The Prodigy

Changing Fate

Chapter 2: Prologue 2: The Prodigy

I don't own Bioware

**HELIOS MEDICAL CENTRE  
>EDEN PRIME, 2165<strong>

Lieutenant Commander Tracy Shaw pulled her four wheel drive Light Reconnaissance Vehicle into the parking lot of the med centre. It was amazing how fast the colony on Eden had sprung up. Most of the settlements were just a collection of pre-fabs, but Helios was developing into the planet's first major city.

It was more a matter of location than anything else. Situated just on the coastline of mega continent Atmin, Helios was an ideal hub for the rail networks that criss crossed the planet. The spaceport was always humming with activity, and a small network of shops had sprung up, selling the small luxuries usually unavailable to the colonists. This was Tracy's home now. She had come here as a soldier, and stayed on to be a wife and a mother.

In 2159, 'Earth Eternal' had formed. A group of religious and environmental zealots, protesting human expansion. They had all joined for varied reasons. The environmental nuts insisted that colonisation was harming the eco-systems of various planets. That the Alliance was using terra-forming technology, effectively eliminating unfriendly flora and fauna was something that filled the 'eco-warriors' with an almost insane rage. The religious whack jobs were terrified that the newly discovered galactic society disproved the existence of their various deities. They wanted to pull back onto Earth, shut down the Charon relay, and never again make contact with the outside galaxy.

It would have suited everyone if they had just gone on demonstrating. But in 2160, a radical group had armed themselves and attacked the colonies on Elysium, Terra Nova and Eden Prime. With the Alliance military in the middle of a re-organisation, there were no forces available to make a concerted attack on the insurrectionists. The meagre forces of Alliance marines were hit hard by IEDs, rocket attacks and late night ambushes.

Human ingenuity however, had prevailed. Cobbling together the United North American States 82nd Airborne Division, the Australian-Pacific Union 2nd Commando Regiment, and the 1st Mechanised Infantry Brigade of the Japanese Self Defence Force, the Alliance had struck back.

The insurgents were dumb on Elysium and Terra Nova. The fast moving Aussies landed and took them all the way out before the heavy formations could even get unpacked. Eden Prime had been a bitch. Ten days of nasty, close quarters fighting. The insurgents had used human shields, suicide bombers, every dirty tactic in the book. The body count went into the hundreds, the insurgents sustaining ninety percent casualties before they surrendered. 82nd Airborne, 2nd Commando and 1st Mech were renamed and renumbered as the 4th Frontier Division, and retrained as Marines. The veterans were given their campaign ribbons, a reminder of what they had lost for such little gain. What Tracy had lost, she could never replace.

On Day Eight of the fighting, one of the terrorists had strapped C8 military grade explosives to his chest and charged straight at Tracy's platoon. Her sniper took him out with a single bullet, but not before he detonated his kill switch. Most of her men had been in cover, but Tracy, closest to the blast, copped a load of shrapnel in the chest and went out for the count. When she came to, she found out that a piece of metal the size of a dinner plate had neatly severed both of her legs. In addition to that, her right arm was so badly mangled that amputation was necessary.

Her division had moved on without her, Tracy was too frail to accompany them back to Earth. She had been quartered with one of the colonists, a shy technician called Geoffrey. Unused to being a convalescent, she had almost broken down mentally. But Geoff had saved her from the darkest parts of her own mind, helped her through the physical therapy and re-learning how to walk using her new synthetic legs.

It was hard to remember which had come first: Her marriage, her official transfer to Eden Prime's garrison, or the news that she was pregnant. They had all happened so quickly. She'd found a home here, a place where her family was not determined men with rifles, but a man whose smile never faltered...and her daughter, tucked into the passenger's seat of the LRV.

There had been a scare early during the pregnancy. One of the incoming transport ships had suffered a critical malfunction on its landing. The crash had leaked Element Zero over a thousand hectares of previously fertile soil. Responsible for overseeing the containment of the area, Tracy had been exposed to an enormously high level of the dangerous substance. One doctor had speculated that there was a sixty percent chance of Tracy dying of cancer, an eighty percent chance that she would miscarry, and a ninety five percent chance that her child would be born horribly deformed.

Tracy had promptly flipped the doctor off, beat the odds and gave birth to her first daughter, Jacqueline Shaw. Jackie was healthy, energetic, had her father's deep brown eyes and her mother's fiery red hair. At around three years of age, her biotics started to manifest. Doctor Hawke at Helios Med Centre thought this early appearance was due to the amount of exposure.

For Tracy, this guaranteed that she would never be without exercise. Her little four year old took an exorbitant amount of pleasure in levitating objects around the house up into the air. Mommy's uniform cap, Daddy's wrench, her playful giggles were almost music to Tracy's ears. Jacqueline had been called to the principal's office when she tossed the local school bully ten feet into a garbage can.

Tracy was a parent who believed in discipline. She had scolded Jackie thoroughly for the fight, and had sat as a stern presence when the principal had a talk with her. But when the principal, a tall, forbidding woman with a traditional approach to teaching, had labelled her daughter a freak...well, Tracy had explained with a few choice words exactly where the principal could stick her school, and emphasised her point with a right hook. Number One rule when you meet a bear, don't mess with her cubs.

"Do I have to go and see Dottor Hawke?" Jackie pouted as Tracy reached over to unbuckle her. "He always pokes and pwods me and he speaks funny."

"That's because he's from England dear," Tracy lifted her out of the car with a grin. "Doctor Hawke just pokes you to make sure you're all healthy, and that your biotics aren't making you sick."

"Fine," Jackie sighed. "But if he's mean, do your promise to stop him?"

"If he's mean to you, there won't be a thing on this planet that can protect him from me," she laughed. "Say, how about after this, we go grab an ice cream?"

"Two scoops? Vanilla and strawberry?"

"You strike a hard bargain," Tracy pretended to consider it for a few seconds. "Alright, it's a deal."

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"Hi there, you must be Commander Shaw, I'm Doctor Castor" the young man in the lab coat extended his hand. "Doctor Hawke's out today, I'll be taking Jacqueline for her check up."

"Hi," Jackie grabbed his hand before her mother. "I'm Jackie, but my Dad calls me Jack. Mom doesn't think it's...fem-in-ine."

"I think Jack's a very nice name," Castor shrugged apologetically at Tracy. She understood, he was putting Jackie at ease, making the whole process easier for her. Suddenly, the doctor frowned. "Say Jack, I think you've got something in your ear. I might have to operate."

Reaching for her, he brushed back a strand of her hair, his hand suddenly holding a lollipop. "Now Jack, really? Maybe I'll find a chocolate bar in between your toes."

Holding his hand, Jack giggled as he led her toward the paediatric ward. "You're funny Mister Castor."

_Thank you Lord, for doctor's who are good with children_, Tracy offered up a quick thanksgiving as she headed for the waiting room.

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"Hop up there Jack, and I'll run a quick scan to make sure you're not growing caramel creams in your armpits," Castor's voice became filled with mock severity. "That's a serious offence to make candy without a license you know. I'll need you to hold very still so I don't' get anything wrong."

Anxious to be cleared of all charges, Jackie held stock still and shut her eyes tight. A minute later, she opened one eye and snuck a glance at Doctor Castor. He was gazing in bewilderment at the machine in front of him.

"Is it over?"

"Huh, oh sorry, I can't figure out how this machine works, so I figure I'll go have my lunch and think it through when I come back."

"Doctor!"

"I'm just kidding," he perched himself on top of a wheeling stool. "Scan's are all over and done with Jack, you're a very healthy little girl. Do you play skyball?"

She nodded proudly. "I'm the best at school," her face fell. "The other kids say I cheat. They think I use my...my 'iotics' to win."

"Do you?"

Jackie's head shook furiously. "Oh no, Mommy says never to use the lights for things like that. 'Sides, I always feel kinda tired after I lift or throw something. The other kids won't listen to me."

"They're just jealous that they can't do what you do," he reassured her. "You burn twice as bright as the rest of them. When you grow up, you're going to do extraordinary things."

"Really?"

"Really really," he confirmed. "Now there's just one more test left to go Jack. I have to give you this injection. I won't bore you with the science, but suffice it to say, you'll feel a little tired, then you'll feel great. Does your nose clog up during the harvest?"

"A little."

"You've got hayfever, it's a harmless little bug, but it can make people miserable," swabbing an area on her arm with an anaesthetic patch, he injected a clear fluid into her bloodstream. "This is an immunisation against it."

"Okay, thanks mister," Jack began to yawn. "Can you wake me up soon? Mommy and I...are...going..."

The second she drifted off, Castor's demeanour changed. Crossing to a cupboard, he removed a small bottle and poured some of the substance into his hands, then rubbed it underneath his eyelids. His eyes quickly began to water. Mussing up his hair into a disorderly frenzy, he activated the intercom. He raised his voice into a panicked crescendo. "Nurse Hai, report to Room Fourteen STAT! There's an emergency, Code EKN 67!"

Thirty seconds later, a short woman with an Asian complexion entered the room. "You've found one sir?"

"She matches all the markers," Castor seemed excited, despite his appearance. "I've never seen this much biotic potential in a single subject before. Take her to the morgue, keep her out of sight. Contact Pragia and tell them to send a team for retrieval."

"What about the mother? I thought the Illusive Man requested that we avoid kidnapping and breaking up families? It draws too much attention.

"I'll deal with her," Castor indicated his eyes. The carefully applied chemicals made him look emotionally distraught. "Trust me; the Illusive Man will make an exception in her case."

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**THE OBSERVATORY  
>UNKNOWN LOCATION<br>THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

The Illusive Man inhaled a deep puff of his cigarette as he read the transcript from Eden Prime. Operative Castor had done a fine job, covered his tracks, and shown some initiative. Too smart to be hanging around a backwater like that, that intellect of his would be needed elsewhere.

**Doctor Castor: I'm so sorry. These things... there's so much about prenatal Element Zero exposure that we don't understand. **

**Tracy Shaw: But... no! No, she was fine! She was fine and happy! You just told me she needed a checkup! **

**DC: It happened quickly. We were unable to bring her back. **

**TS: You just said she needed a checkup! How did this happen? **

**DC: I'm very sorry. **

**TS: I want to see her! **

**DC: No ma'am. Believe me. After what the seizures did to the poor child's body, you don't. **

**TS: I don't... How did this happen? **

**DC: We don't know. I'll be honest. This isn't the first infant we've lost this way. **

**TS: Why? God. Why? **

**DC: We're working on treatments. The government doesn't put much effort into it, though. Don't want to interfere with their biotic recruitments. **

**TS: Sons of bitches. Those sons of bitches! **

**DC: Listen... this may not be the right time, but if you'd be willing to let us study your baby's body, we can do some tests. **

**TS: You want to keep her? **

**DC: I don't want another family to go through what you went through. **

**TS: I... Okay. Yes. Whatever helps. **

**DC: Thank you so much. The nurse will have you sign a few forms. I'm so sorry, ma'am.**

And just like that, he had managed to obtain for Cerberus a girl with the highest biotic potential The Illusive Man had ever seen. He had, however, made one mistake; albeit unknowingly.

"Mulligan?"

"Yes sir?" The powerful Irishman stood a few paces behind the Illusive Man's chair. In all of Cerberus, he was the one man the Illusive Man really trusted. Losing his wife and son to the first raid by slavers on a human colony had given the former Army Ranger...perspective on humanity's place in the galaxy. He could be relied upon for fanatical loyalty to the cause, though his bravery tended toward the suicidal variety.

"Cancel the team from Pragia. I want you to go retrieve the child yourself, and bring her here."

"Sir? She's a perfect candidate for the Teltin Project sir."

"I already have one perfect candidate for Pragia," The Illusive Man smiled at his own joke. "I don't need two. This little one is far too valuable to waste. Bring. Her. To me."

Mulligan nodded. "Yes sir. I'll get it done sir."

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Geoff Shaw quietly shut the door on his truck. Sneaking across the lawn in front of the pre-fab he shared with Tracy and Jackie, he lowered his toolbox to the ground. Opening it, he removed the dolly from inside it, a belated birthday present he had been promising his daughter for weeks.

"Surprise!" He leapt inside his house, expecting to see his wife and child watching a vid on the couch, or putting together a puzzle, waiting for him to bring home a pizza from the newest shop to open on the Promenade.

Instead, he saw Tracy sitting against the wall, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking helplessly.

"Tracy honey? What's wrong?" He quickly moved to her side. "Where's Jack?"

She lifted her head, her red eyes and swollen cheeks evidenced hours of crying. "Geoff...our baby," she hiccupped. "Our baby's dead. She...she had a seizure. A biotic seizure. I looked it up. An un-implanted biotic can shake themselves to pieces."

"No..." Geoff couldn't believe it. "No...there's no way..."

"The doctor said...she was screaming for me, he tried to dampen her biotics, but the sedative wouldn't work," Tracy continued, despite the fresh tears leaking out of her eyes. "I was reading a copy of _Colonial Weekly_, while Jackie was ripping herself into shreds."

"It's okay," Geoff felt his legs weaken. Not so soon, not a little innocent like Jack. This wasn't fair. This wasn't right.

"I killed her Geoff. I should have taken her in yesterday, or the day before that. I should have told the Major to fuck off when he told me to secure that crash site," Tracy balled her fists so tight that her nails cut into her skin. "I sentenced my own child to death."

"No...you didn't," Geoff enveloped his wife with his arms, laying her head against his chest. "You didn't. It's not one's fault. No one's fault at all. You didn't know, you couldn't have

Known. She's in a better place now."

"I want to die," Tracy rocked against him, grief swallowing her. "I want to die and be with her."

"She wouldn't want that. Jackie would want you to be strong. She'd want both of us to be strong."

"I don't want to be strong," his wife was shaking like a leaf in his arms. Geoff steeled himself. He would be her rock. He would help her heal. He'd mourn his daughter in his own way. His precious, smart, beautiful little girl. "I want my baby back."

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It was dark in the room. And cold. Jackie huddled up in the corner. At least it was dry in here. She hated the wet. She had only woken up a few minutes ago. Instead of being back in the room, waiting for Mommy to come and take her out to get some ice cream, she was lying on a low padded bench in a huge, cavernous like space.

A door opened in the distance. A tall figure was framed against the light. He strode toward her. For a second, Jackie thought he was Daddy. He had the same kind of strength in the way he walked. But he wasn't Daddy. Daddy had a beard, his hair was always shaggy, and he usually wore a grey, oil stained jumpsuit. This man was clean shaven and immaculately dressed and groomed.

Stopping in front of her, the man crouched down. "Are you Jacqueline Shaw?"

She nodded.

"Are you cold?"

Another nod.

Removing his jacket, the man draped it around her. The nano-fibres immediately sensed her body temperature and began warming up.

"Is that better?"

"Yes," Jackie croaked, her voice hoarse. "Who are you?"

"My name's Jack," a note of humour entered his voice. "Jack Harper."

"I'm Jackie," slowly, she eased herself onto her feet. "I want my Mommy."

The man's eyes glowed, like the hero on her favourite vid series. He looked sad. "I'm sorry Jackie, that's not possible. Do you know what batarians are?"

"Mommy says they're nasty people with four eyes," she answered with as much seriousness as a four year old could muster. "They don't like us very much."

"I'm afraid she's right." Jack Harper nodded. "They attacked your colony. We managed to fight them off, but they took your Mommy and Daddy."

Strangely enough, she didn't cry. She felt too numb to cry. For the first time in her life, Jackie became aware of how small she was in comparison to the rest of the world. "Who are you?"

"I fight for humanity, the same as your Mommy did," he answered. "But I fight from the shadows, often I don't meet the bad guys face to face. I know things, usually more things than the bad guys know. They labelled me 'an illusive man'."

"What does illusive mean?" Jackie wrinkled her nose in confusion. Harper chuckled.

"In my case, it literally means I'm not real. I don't exist for them. They don't know my real name, they don't know my face."

"I know your name," Jackie pointed out.

"That's because I trust you." Harper sat down, and gestured her to sit beside him. "I've been reading up on you Jackie. You're a very special little girl. The Alliance would be glad to take care of you. But they might send you to live at BAat."

"I don't wanna go there," Jackie held onto his arm. "Mommy says bad things happened to the kids there."

"That's okay Jackie, I won't let them take you there," he patted her shoulder. "Instead, I was wondering, would you like to come and live with me? I could take care of you instead."

"You mean you could be my...my dardian?" Jackie suggested hopefully. Mr. Harper wasn't like the other Alliance men. He was kind.

"Guardian," Harper corrected her. "And yes. I'd make sure you got a good education, and training in how to use your biotics. You wouldn't have to go to BAaT or an orphanage."

"That sounds good," Jackie's voice began to shake. The shock of the past few hours was beginning to catch up with her. She would cry herself to sleep tonight. The Illusive Man put his arm around her, she would take a long time to heal, but she would get there eventually.

While he might have been thinking of other things at the time, the delight at finding the most powerful human biotic ever seen; for now, he had awoken a previously undiscovered parental urge. For the moment, he would protect this frail little creature beside him. He would raise her the best way he knew how. She wouldn't be taught to be a xenophobe. No, he would have her understand and appreciate the different cultures that humanity found itself amongst. One day, he would tell her about Cerberus, about his work. Hopefully, she would join him, helping to bring strength to Cerberus, to humanity.

Jack Harper had found a daughter.

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**A/N: Apologies for the lateness, had a history paper due in. Hoping for updates to be much more regular.**

**Yeah, after I read Jack's Shadow Broker Dossier, I was like, 'Okay, time to hunt down this Doctor Castor and murder him eight different ways'. It's one of the biggest problems I had with Cerberus, after Akuze and Kahoku. **


	3. Six Years Later

Changing Fate

Chapter Three: Six Years Later

I don't own Bioware

**TELTIN FACILITY  
>PRAGIA<br>2171**

"Alright Zero," the guard pushed her into the ring. "You know the deal. You win this fight, you get your shot."

Miranda gazed at the syringe in his hands, a hungry expression on her face. "Can't I have it now? I'm sure I can win."

"Sorry Zero," Security Chief Tevya shook his head. "No victory, no candy. Doc says those are the rules."

"Fine," Miranda swung around. A tall boy, two years her senior, jumped over the barrier. His hair had all fallen out, a result of the chemicals swirling around his system. Apparently, the cocktail of pharmaceuticals was meant to enhance his biotics, but so far, they had just made him sick.

Reaching into the deepest parts of herself, Miranda embraced the dark energy, covered herself with a bright blue aura and charged forward. The boy did the same, and they met in the centre with a fearful crash of power.

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"Magnificent," Doctor Piper leant on the railing of the catwalk, staring at the fight below him. "Such untempered power."

His young assistant. Miss Stephanie Grace, a sweet young thing with honey blonde hair and caramel eyes, nodded in agreement. "Subject Zero is flaring higher than ever before sir. Those new implants in her nervous system are streamlining the power straight from her nodes to her corona."

"An excellent idea of yours, to give her controlled injections of red sand," Piper nodded with approval as the boy was flung back, his arms flailing as Miranda tossed him about like a playing card. "She fights like a demon to get her next fix."

"Behavioural patterns suggested it to be the only suitable method of controlling her." Stephanie scrolled through her omni-tool. "The upgrades that went in are also working. She now demonstrates a one hundred percent immunity to Omega-Enkaphlin. We could expose her to a thousand rads, and she'd just smile at us and keep on tossing singularities."

"Incredible," Piper didn't take his eyes of the fight. The boy was on his knees now, his left arm dangling uselessly, while his right tried to block the biotically charged punches that Subject Zero was hitting him with. "I want to try something new tomorrow. Doctor Celas, our medical attaché on Serris, reported that experienced asari have demonstrated the ability to levitate using biotics."

"Sounds like science fiction to me." Stephanie frowned. "I would suggest we take a look at her endurance, and with that..."

"Stephanie, I appreciate your desire to help," Piper shook his head. "It's true that the programme is proceeding fast, but I need it to go faster. The Illusive Man is requesting status reports, and if he finds out what we're doing here, he'll kill me. I won't go crawling back to him until I have it."

"Have it sir?"

"The key to unlocking Zero's full potential," the doctor grinned, Miranda was kicking the unconscious body of her opponent. Chief Tevya pulled her away. Subject Zero presented her forearm, eagerly awaiting her next injection of red sand. Tevya obliged her. Injecting the drug in a liquid form was far safer than the popular method of inhaling it through the nostrils. "We're close now. So close I can feel it. Maybe in the right circumstances it will present itself. Maybe we need to go deeper into her nervous system. One way or another, I will find it."

Stephanie remained silent as Miranda and the other children were escorted back to the dormitories, the broken body of the boy was lifted onto a stretcher and taken to the medical area. Some patch ups for his injuries would be available, but he would be back on the operating table within the week regardless.

Piper pushed away from the railing and walked back toward the lab. "I want Subject Twenty Two in the lab ASAP. We're going to re-expose her system to raw Element Zero. Maybe it will give her the jump start we've been looking for."

"More likely it will kill her," Stephanie frowned. "We only have twenty seven subjects left sir. Our next batch doesn't get in till next month."

"Well then we have twenty seven chances at finding the right dosage for Zero," Piper growled. "Maggie McKinnon, the only human to have been exposed to Eezo twice in utero and lived to tell about it. The most powerful human biotic to have ever lived."

"Until she died in that aircrash," Stephanie reminded him. "She was an abnormality sir. A freak accident."

"I'm going to duplicate that accident. If Zero is exposed again, in exactly the right way, she could develop another set of nodes. And just maybe, we could do it again with the same results. Imagine that. Three sets of biotic nodules." Piper grabbed Stephanie by the arm. "So, bring Subject Twenty Two to the lab. Now."

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Miranda's whole world was filled with light. Her biotics sparked with an influx of fresh power. She would continue flaring for the better part of an hour, till the red sand metabolised. Until then, she would feel good, really good. But that wasn't why she always strove to win her fights. Miranda was stronger than that, and she knew it. Some of the others needed the fix that the drug provided, Miranda only needed the power.

For a non-biotic, red sand had a devastating side effect. The asari manufactured drug actually encouraged the nervous system to develop its own biotic nodes, as well as providing an ecstatic experience that rendered many of Earth's home-grown narcotics obsolete, and almost overnight turned the drug barons into paupers. But once the high wore off, the unlucky user would feel the effects of their new nodes. Without the nervous system or specialised metabolism that biotics grew in the womb, a non biotic would experience excruciating pain for a few minutes during the come down.

Many users considered the pain to be a good trade-off for the high, hence why red sand remained popular. The full effects weren't felt until the user was well and truly hooked. What was a few minutes the first few times would develop into hours, and then days of agony as the nodes withered and died. The smart kids got the relatively painless surgery that removed the nodes, then went back to their lives, thankful for the escape. The dumb ones just went out and bought more sand.

For a biotic, the growth in the nodules was sometimes difficult to bear, but it was possible to acclimatise. Conatix had done one last, desperate experiment to try and save themselves from financial ruin. They shot a volunteer up to the gills with red sand. He demonstrated incredible power for nearly two hours, then died. The Alliance promptly abandoned the experiments.

Miranda had read the report, one of the guards had been careless with his data pads. She had come to the same conclusion as Piper, that small doses of red sand might increase her body's capacity for extended use of biotics, even after the primary effects of the narcotic had faded.

The past two months, kicking the ever living shit out of anyone dumb enough to challenge her in the ring, had proven this point. Every day after her victory, Tevya gave her a single milligram of red sand, heavily diluted, but still potent. Combined with the new implants, it was enough to turn her already considerable powers into something almost elemental in nature.

Miranda listened at the doorway for a few seconds. Satisfied that the guards were occupied in their usual conversation, she moved over to her bed and crawled underneath it. With exaggerated care, the eleven year old pried one of the floor panels loose. Underneath it was a metal pipe. Taking a thin knife from the bed frame, Miranda rhythmically tapped the pipe several times.

Before Security Chief Mason's retirement, he had asked Miranda if he could bring her any other books. The elderly officer had been surprised at her choices. 'Escape or Die' by Paul Brickhill, 'Code and Code-Breaking' by Chester Nomuri, and a copy of Homer's 'Odyssey. Puzzled by her choices, he brought them in at the regular time. She had then asked her final request. Miranda had seen the light turn on inside his eyes as he finally understood her book selection.

'One Hundred Ways to turn Household Items into Weapons', was a civilian's guide to creating improvised armaments. Ever since she was brought to Pragia, Miranda had been planning her escape. From the moment she woke up, to the first crippling surgery, freedom had been the only thing on her mind. The books Mason gave her at the end of the first year had been Step One.

Pressing her ear to the pipe, Miranda heard the rhythmic sound of the returning message.

"_Are you alright? Danny hit you pretty hard back there."_

Relieved, Miranda send back a reply.

"_Not as hard as I hit him. Tell him I'm sorry when he gets out of the infirmary."_

Step Two had been tricky. Recruiting somebody outside her cell, someone who could help her. A series of very narrow escape had seen her in possession of a pad, listing on it the names and dossiers of everyone in the project. Aresh Knox had been her selection. IQ tests put him above the others, and he had the most reason to help her. His sister, Katie Knox, was held in the cell next to his. He was desperate to get her out.

It had taken some time, but through a series of carefully placed messages, Miranda was able to establish contact with him. The code book had been smuggled to him via the sewerage system. He had learned basic Morse typing, then suggested that they tap out messages using the interconnecting pipes. Selecting the right one had taken nearly a month of searching, but by the end of Year Two, Miranda had established a regular and efficient rapport with him.

Step's Three and Four had been relatively easy. Recruit others, willing and ready to break out. Twenty of the kids, judged to be trustworthy, had been found. The others were just too young, or too weak to be let in on the master plan.

Step Four had been based around developing a working plan for escape. The theory was quite simple. During the escape, the strongest biotics and best fighters would attack the guards and keep them busy. Meanwhile, the three leaders, Miranda, Aresh and Danny, would kidnap Doctor Piper and force him to shut down the automated defences. When that had been achieved, they would lead the rest of the children to the main hangar, steal the four TR-55 transports docked inside, and escape to the Citadel.

The last problem had been Step Five: Making it Happen. For four years, Step Five had been in progress. In four years, the original twenty had been whittled down to seven. The rest had died at the hands of Piper and the research staff. Aresh had shed bitter tears for his friends, Miranda hadn't known them at all. On one hand, she could count the people she had interacted with in the last six years. Piper, Aresh, Mason and Tevya.

If Tevya had been as smart as his predecessor, then the escape would never have been possible. Likewise, if Mason had been lacking in compassion, Miranda would have despaired and given up. But now, against all odds, Step Six was within her grasp.

Step Six: Freedom.

"_We go in six days. After Piper gives his big weekly speech."_

"_Finally! I'm ready to go. Do you think we can do it?"_

"_We're like Odysseus in his cave Aresh. We can beat the Cyclops, we just need to be clever."_

"_Mikey wants Tevya all to himself. Says he's going to slit him open from top to bottom."_

"_We can't waste time on revenge Aresh. We don't have numbers on our side anymore. If we stop moving for one second, we're dead."_

"_I know. Still, it'd be great to..."_

He suddenly stopped tapping. Miranda pressed her ear closer to the pipe, panic rising in her throat. Had they caught him communicating? Were they compromised? Had six years of frail hopes just been shattered?

"_Zero, they just took her. They just took Katie to the lab. Fuck, they've got my sister. Tevya said they're coming for you to. Get everything hidden. Shit! Why now? Why fucking now?"_

Hastily slipping the panel back into position, Miranda scrambled out from under her bed and through herself on top. Facing away from the door, she pretended to sleep.

There was a crack of lightning from outside the building as the door opened. It was raining again outside. Tevya stood in the doorway. "Come on Zero. The boss wants you for a little experiment."

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**ITHACA HOTEL  
>PENTHOUSE SUITE<br>TERRA NOVA**

"Jacqueline? I'm home!" Jack Harper called as he entered the door of his spacious apartment. The Observatory was a good headquarters for Cerberus, but hardly a fitting place to raise a child. Operative Mulligan had suggested growing a handlebar moustache to better suit his position. Jack had laughed politely at the joke, and then thrashed Mulligan a hundred and sixty to nought in their weekly skyball match.

"Hey Daddy," Jacqueline Harper took the stairs from the upper level three at a time, then leapt into her adopted father's arms. "How was Palaven?"

"Hot, but my trip was productive." Jack made it a point never to lie to his daughter. He just never told her the whole truth. The trip had been productive, the new General to the Most Honoured Home Fleet had proved very susceptible to bribes. "Were you good for Matriarch Trellani?"

"She was an absolute angel," the dignified asari walked down the steps behind Jack. "I couldn't ask for a more willing student."

"Look what I can do Daddy," Jacqueline took a few steps back, then squinted her eyes in concentration. Her aura surrounded her, pulsing severely, and then, slowly but surely, she lifted off the ground and hovered in the air. Admittedly, she only levitated a few inches, but it was an impressive sight.

"Well done," Jack nodded in approval. "I have a present for you, something I picked up on the way back."

Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out a pair of elegantly crafted ice skates. Jacqueline grabbed them with a squeal of delight. "Oh thank you Daddy! Thank you so much!"

Her face fell. "But I don't know how to skate."

"That's okay," Jack laughed. "We're going out to the lake tomorrow, I'll teach you how. Now, why don't you go and get changed for dinner. I think we both owe the Matriarch a night out for looking after you."

"Alright," Jackie bounced back up the steps with the energy only a child possessed. Trellani smiled as she watched the girl disappear into her room.

"You spoil her," she accused playfully.

"Do I tell you how to raise your children?" he protested as he moved toward the liquor cabinet.

"My children are all older than you," Trellani returned drily. "I must admit, when I heard The Illusive Man was a father, I had my concerns. But she is as polite and charming as you."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It shows she wants to emulate you," the matriarch relaxed on a sofa. "That makes it important that you be a good role model. The only advice I can offer on that regard would be to drink less, and by the Goddess man, stop smoking!"

"You want me to quit? I can quit right now!" Jack declared, fishing a silver case from his jacket and dropping it into the waste basket.

"That's a start," a smile reached her face. "But if I can taste tobacco in your breath next week, then I'll remove your tonsils with my mind."

"Duly noted," he sipped his single malt whiskey. "Something I've always wondered Tre, why do you find humanity so interesting?"

"You're a young species," standing up, Trellani moved closer to him. "Your potential is...breathtaking. Your diversity in culture, religion, political opinion, it staggers me. And the different facets of your individuality never cease to intrigue. Take for instance, you are the Illusive Man, the unforgiving head of Cerberus. And yet to her, you are Jack Harper, her father."

"She's the best thing in my life."

"I fervently pray that that lasts Jack," Trellani heard Jacqueline's footsteps on the stairs. "For both your sakes."

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**LAWSON TOWER  
>SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA<br>EARTH**

"Niket, please show Oriana up to her room, and make sure she finishes her homework before bedtime," Richard Lawson directed.

"Of course sir," Niket nodded. "Oriana?"

"Goodnight Father," Oriana said dutifully. Niket hid a grin. Oriana was just as rebellious as Miranda had been, she was just better at hiding it. And that would come in handy tonight.

The two of them entered the private elevator that took them to the seventy first floor. They had adjoining rooms to each other. To get to Oriana's room, an intruder would first have to pass through Niket. It had been a security measure that he himself suggested.

Ordinarily, Oriana would stay at the estate when Mr. Lawson would go on business trips. This time however, Niket had suggested that it might be beneficial for Oriana to take a field trip to some of the museums in the city. Lawson had reluctantly agreed, but only on the condition that it did not interfere with Oriana's study. Niket had promised that it wouldn't.

The first thing Oriana did when she entered the room was rush to her closet. Inside, a thick coat and two packed bags were waiting. Niket did the same thing in his room, only he retrieved a sidearm from his desk.

"You ready to go?" He asked Orianna as she came out into his room.

"Clothes, fake ID's, tickets from the spaceport on Outreach City to the Citadel, then relay to Ilium," she rattled off. "The program I wrote into the security system activates in three minutes. We'll have twenty minutes to get to the hangar, steal the shuttle and lift off. Three hours to get to Mars, ditch the shuttle and get in line for our flight. We travel economy class as Mr. Nikolai Solheim and his daughter Ori Solheim. I got everything sorted."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm redundant in my own escape plan," Niket grumbled as he pulled on his own coat.

"Don't be silly," Oriana said sternly. "I'm only six. I need you around to be the responsible adult. I'll ditch you as soon as I'm capable of moving around without arousing suspicion."

Niket paused. "What?"

"Just kidding," she giggled, then became serious again. "Or am I?"

"Oh you little..." Niket grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can still back out. We can still cancel everything."

Oriana shook her head furiously. "I'm not going to be part of it Niket. I don't want to be part of some kind of dynasty. I have the right to my own life."

"I thought you'd say that," drawing his pistol, Niket cocked it, then hid it in his pocket. "Come on. Let's go."

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**A/N: Heard today that the US finally got Osama bin Laden. God Bless America, thanks for bringing this bastard to justice.**


	4. Escape from the Cave

Changing Fate

Chapter Four: Escape from the Cave

I don't own Bioware

**TELTIN FACILITY**

**PRAGIA, RESEARCH LAB**

**2165**

"Please," Katie Knox whimpered as she was strapped into the chair. "Don't do this."

"Shall we administer a sedative sir?" Stephanie stepped up behind Doctor Piper. "This process will be excruciating."

"I regret that we can't," Piper frowned. "I don't want any chemicals in either of their systems. It will just compromise the experiment. Bring in Zero."

Miranda's eyes widened as Tevya dragged her into the room and toward the chair. The Security Chief howled as she sunk her teeth into his wrist. Reaching for his holster he drew a stun gun and zapped her twice. She went limp, helpless to resist as the restraints bound her into the chair.

"Alright," Piper announced. "We'll start off slow with two rads for Subject Twenty Two and one rad for Subject Zero."

"Katie. Katie don't worry," Miranda tried to speak to the other girl. "Everything's going to be alright."

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**LAWSON TOWER**

**SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA**

**EARTH**

**SECURITY CENTRE**

"What the hell are you talking about?" Richard Lawson snarled. "Why isn't Oriana in her room? And why are cameras down?"

"We don't know sir," his PA tried to calm him down. "All we know is that the maid went into Oriana's room a few minutes ago and she wasn't there."

"Lock down the building!"

"We can't do that sir. Someone's overridden the security systems."

He spun on his heel, glaring at the short secretary. "You mean I pay four hundred thousand credits a year to the best security experts just to get my cameras hacked by anyone who comes wandering in?"

"I don't know sir," though frightened, the PA kept on talking. "Maybe if..."

=This is Webster= One of the security guards radioed in. =I just spotted Niket=

Richard grabbed a comms unit from the operator and activated it. =When? Where?=

=Eightieth floor, about five minutes ago.= Webster responded. =Sure was in a hurry. Cleaned my clock with a haymaker=

In a rare display of raw emotion, Richard Lawson hurled the radio against the wall. Walking to a weapons locker on the wall, he retrieved a small pistol. "I want a guard to meet me up there. Niket is heading for the shuttles. He'll have Oriana with him. I'll deal with him myself."

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"Sir, Subject Twenty Two just flatlined," Stephanie reported to Piper. "Subject Zero is flaring awfully high."

"Okay, shut it off and flush her system," Piper ordered. "It's incredible. Her nodes are developing at incredible rate. Hundreds of scientists say direct injection is too risky, and I do it successfully on my first try. I told you, it's just a matter of getting the dosage right. Get me some more subjects."

"How many more?"

"All of them!"

"Please..." Miranda snivelled as she felt a fresh mix of chemicals sooth her raw nervous system. "Stop..."

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Aresh was a patient boy. In his childhood, some people called him stupid, or cowardly. This wasn't true. Aresh just preferred to take his time. But there were times when that just didn't work. When the batarians came to his colony, he had hoisted Katie onto his shoulders and ran like the Devil was chasing him. But he hadn't run fast enough, or far enough. Hence why he had wound up here.

His own method of caution before speed had gone nicely with Miranda's perfectionist approach to escaping. The Cerberus adults held every advantage. Guns, armour, and most important of all: fear. As long as the children were afraid, they wouldn't fight.

This fear had paralysed them, while one by one, their numbers had been diminished. The pit fights, the dangerous experiments, the daily injections, the genetic mutations. Every unpleasant way for a human being to die, Aresh had seen it. But through it all, he had protected his sister. He had taken the beatings meant for her, given her his rations when she was hungry, even taken her place in the ring fights.

His sister was dead now. He knew it deep in his heart. They had taken her away and they hadn't brought her back. Instead, they had come for everybody. The small kids tried hiding under their beds. The handlers dragged them out, and they weren't being gentle. It had to be a final phase in the experiment. They were all going to die.

They were marched through the playing area and up the staircase. The mirrored window, the barrier that sealed off Subject Zero from the rest of them. It was funny in a way. The only times he met her face to face, they were throwing violent punches in the fighting ring. But when they communicated via the pipes and written notes, it was different. He felt a connection to her. Strange, considering all of his suffering was being done for her benefit. He would have hated her, if she wasn't enduring the same shit.

That was why he had agreed to escape with her. That was why they had planned and schemed. All for nothing. Katie was dead. The time for planning was over.

"Hey!" Aresh pushed one of the kids down. "Stop shoving me!"

"I didn't shove you," the boy snarled. "Get off me!"

"Break it up!" One of the guards reached in and pulled Aresh to his feet. "Stop making trouble!"

Aresh lurched against the armoured figure, then jabbed upwards. The shiv, a sharpened piece of metal, broken away from the corner of his bunk, pierced through the soft underside of the guard's throat. Almost instantaneously, blood sprayed out over the children, the guard gurgling in surprise and horror as he grabbed at the jagged cut, trying to stem the bleeding.

For a moment, both Aresh and the other guards were paralysed. None of the kids had ever tried fighting back. The stun guns, shock collars and boot heels were enough to assure the handler's constant superiority. Aresh began to tremble. He'd made a strike for freedom...what now?

It was Subject 42 who broke the silence. An impossibly thin little girl, with almost non-existent biotic powers, she extended her arm and send a tiny ball of blue energy, no bigger than a golf ball, at her handler. This 'golf ball', struck with the kinetic energy of a cannon ball. The man gave a strangled cry as his ribs snapped, and he flipped backward. 42 collapsed, the strain of using her powers overwhelming her.

Another handler lashed out with his boot, catching her on the side of the head. 42 went limp, her head bleeding and her eyes locked open. Twenty five children were shocked into action. In ten seconds, the playing area had transformed into a battlefield. Auto-turrets dropped from the ceiling and began firing tranquilizing darts. Biotic fields tore the turrets from their mountings, the guards were lifted and slammed into walls.

The guards fought back with stun guns and batons. One managed to sound the alarm before Aresh tossed him through a window. The guards could not match the raw power of the children. Being mere humans, they retreated.

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"What the hell is going on out there?" Piper looked up from his console.

"Not sure sir," Tevya admitted. "Somebody get me a comms link."

The door to the lab slid open and two of the guards limped inside. Sector Chief Corsey had a gash down the side of her face. "It's the children sir! They're fighting back. I've lost a dozen men already, it's a full blown riot."

"Shit!" Piper grabbed his handheld pad. "Issue lethal weapons to the guards. Kill them all if you have to. Tevya, come with me, we're taking Zero out of here."

"Yes sir," Tevya tapped in the release command on the chair. Miranda's restraints snapped open. He reached for her arms, intending to pull the unconscious girl out.

Miranda's eyes opened.

"Oh fu..."

A shockwave tore Tevya's body into two pieces, and flung the other guards and scientists back against the wall. Corsey tried to fire her pistol, only to have it explode in her hands. Stephanie turned to run, a warp tore through her chest. Miranda's ice blue eyes were tinged with red as she ripped her tormentors limb from limb. Standing from the chair, she advanced on Piper, cowering against the wall.

"Please Zero..." he sobbed, clutching at a freshly broken leg. "I gave you this power..."

"Yes, you did," Miranda encased his other leg in a blue field, then gave a flick of her wrist. Piper screamed as the leg twisted unnaturally. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"I can give you your freedom Zero, I can let you go," he rolled onto his side. "Please don't kill me. I have a family, I have..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FAMILY," Miranda screamed. For the first time in years, she was crying. In captivity, shutting off her emotions had been the only way to stay sane. But now, she let her barriers break. Her nodules were flaring so much that it hurt. "AND MY NAME IS NOT ZERO! MY NAME IS MIRANDA LAWSON! THIS IS FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO ME! TO ALL OF US!"

"No...please..." Piper pleaded. "Don't..."

Summoning up every last ounce of energy she had within her, Miranda unleashed the most powerful warp she had ever produced. Piper gave one last shriek as his flesh disintegrated...and then there was silence.

Miranda felt herself shaking. The power always took a toll. Her vision dimmed, it was cold. She'd used too much. She was as helpless as a baby.

"Zero?" Aresh was by her side. There was blood on his face, Miranda couldn't tell whose. "You alright?"

"Search Tevya," her voice was hoarse from screaming. "Capsules. TXI-5."

Taking care not to put his hands into Tevya's ruined body, Aresh retrieved a small pouch from the dead man's armour. "What do I do with these?"

"Find a hypospray."

A search of the lab revealed one in the top drawer of Piper's desk. Aresh clipped in one of the red capsules, tapped it, and injected it into Miranda's forearm. She flared again, colour returning to her cheeks.

"What is this stuff?"

"Diluted red sand," Miranda took the hypospray off him and inserted a fresh capsule. "Gives me a boost, but only a temporary one. I calculate that I'll need five injections to clear a path to the transports."

"Can you survive that much?" Aresh rolled Tevya's torso over and unclipped his rifle.

"I'll have to." Miranda winced slightly as she injected another dose into her blood stream. Her aura was almost painfully bright now.

"What's the plan?"

"Very simple plan. Anyone who falls behind...gets left behind."

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"Doors are open," Niket began the start up sequence for the shuttle. "Time to get out of here."

"Still no alarm," Oriana noted. "That guard you knocked out must still be sleeping. You've got a mean left hook."

"The one useful thing the Corps taught me before they tossed me out," he ran his hand down the checklist.

"Not the only thing," Oriana offered. "They taught you to protect other people."

Niket smiled. "Are you always going to be around to boost my self esteem?"

"At least until you get a good life coach," she laughed.

For a fatal second, Niket allowed himself to believe that they were in the clear, that the plan had worked. The sharp rap of a rifle barrel against the cockpit window informed him otherwise. One of Lawson's personal mercs was pointing an Avenger at him, and he had the look of a man who knew how to use it.

"Get out now!" Richard appeared at the other window. The man looked so angry, Niket wondered if a burst blood vessel was on the way.

He weighed up his options. He could jam the throttle open, and pray the gunman would be too startled to shoot, or he could surrender. If he surrendered, Lawson would most certainly order his quiet death. But if he tried to escape, and the gunner fired, then Oriana might get hit. Niket would not even consider taking a course of action that might harm her. He opened the cockpit hatch and stepped out. Immediately, he was clubbed to the ground by the other man's rifle butt.

"Take him away, put a bullet in his head and send him to the incinerator," Lawson pulled Oriana from the cockpit. "Oriana, are you alright?"

"Yes Father, I'm just fine." Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Oriana thrust her hand out toward the merc. The mnemonic had been practised again and again in her room, just in case she'd need to use her biotics during the escape.

It worked. The merc gave a yelp of surprise as he dropped the rifle and floated up toward the ceiling. Niket got to his feet and decked Richard with a haymaker. The multi-billionaire collapsed, clutching at his jaw and staring at Oriana with surprise.

"Oriana? What are you doing?"

"Getting out," She held up her fists in defiance. "Getting out before I wind up like my sisters."

"Sisters?" Richard adopted a hurt expression. "Oriana, you're my daughter."

"Only until the next model comes along," she backed up until she was pressed against the shuttle. She didn't want to go near him. "I don't want to be part of your dynasty. I just want to be normal."

"But you're not normal," Richard stated calmly. "You're special. You don't have to run."

"Yes I do. I'll run to the edge of the galaxy and back if I have to, but I'll always be one step ahead of you." Oriana promised.

"I should end this right now," Niket growled, pointing his new rifle at his former employer. "Make it easy on everyone."

"You do that and the police will chase us," Oriana gently pushed the barrel down. "If he comes after us, then I'll just have to release those recordings I made in his study. The ones that'd guarantee him a life sentence for corruption. Goodbye Father."

"Oriana, I am ordering you to..." his orders were cut off by Niket's patent leather shoe hitting him in the teeth.

"Just loves the sound of his own voice," Niket climbed back into the cockpit. "Next stop Mars."

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"I WILL DESTROY YOU!" Miranda screamed as she smashed through the makeshift barricade the guards had erected to try and contain them.

Frozen in place by stasis fields, arms and legs broken from throws and lifts, any that weren't immediately killed by Miranda were dealt with by the others following her. It was getting harder. The guards were bringing more and more guns to bear. The facility was small, but it boasted an impressive amount of automated defences, as well as sixty armed security personnel, fighting for their lives.

Some of the children stopped to fight. Danny had activated two captured grenades and charged right at the guards in the morgue. The facility was being ripped to pieces by the wanton use of biotics. 67 and 83 had been sidetracked into the backup power plant. Two gunshots from a terrified engineer had detonated the fuel cells.

=ATTENTION ALL SUBJECTS. RETURN TO YOUR CELLS OR YOU WILL BE DISCIPLINED= The outpost's VI blared out. =RETURN TO YORU CELLS OR...=

Aresh blasted the speaker into pieces. "Boring conversationalist."

"Sunlight!" Thirty Seven screamed. "I can see sunlight!"

**=TARGET LOCKED= **A deep mechanical voice announced. There was a whine as an YMIR mech stomped into view. A rocket lanced out from its arm. Thirty Seven gave out one last frightened yelp before the missile turned her and three others into smoking corpses. Switching to its minigun, the giant mech raked the children with a steady stream of fire. Most got into cover, the rest were thrown backwards, their barriers too weak to hold back the volume of fire.

"Aresh...I need another shot," Miranda gasped, completely out of breath. "Just one more, and we're clear."

Aresh looked at the capsule. He slipped it into the hypospray. Then he injected himself. Immediately, he flared back up. "No deal Zero. You've done all the work so far."

"Aresh, we cna get out of here. We can get to freedom!" Miranda yelped as Aresh encased her in a lift.

"Freedom for you Zero, not for me. I'll die here, just like my sister. Don't forget about this. I want you to hurt Cerberus. Hurt them anyway you can."

"I promise," Miranda nodded. "I wish I could have known you better."

"You knew the best of me, that's what counts," Aresh hurled her over the top of the mech. Miranda landed in the doorway on the other side of the room. "Now run. Run! RUN!"

Before the door snapped shut, Miranda saw Aresh advancing on the YMIR, throwing warps like they were going out of style. She ran.

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**HEGEMONY VESSEL: 'HAND OF IRON'**

**SCOUT SHIP FOR THE ENDENTURED SERVITUDE COMMISSION**

**TAHAIN STAR CLUSTER**

**THREE DAYS LATER**

"Sir, we've picked up something on the long range scans," Lieutenant Kaloth reported from the navigation console.

"Alliance patrol?" Commander Rospaire swallowed nervously. The Commission had selected him for this mission due to his reputation as a risk taker. That was before six weeks of dodging roving Alliance frigates.

"Negative," the female batarian frowned. "Small shuttle. IFF is squawking...looks like an Eldfell-Ashland corporate shuttle. Only one life sign, very faint."

"Tractor it into the cargo bay, tell the salvage crew to take a look at it. Maybe it'll be worth a few creds on Omega." Rospaire didn't specify which one he meant, the shuttle or the life sign. Maybe he could flog them both as a package deal.

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"It's always 'Cang do this', 'Cang do that', 'Cang check the shuttle', 'Cang, lick the Commander's boots'," the batarian tech grumbled as he jacked his omni-tool into the shuttle's emergency access port. "I need a pay rise if I'm going to keep stripping apart everything that gets brought on board. Especially with the Alliance snooping about..."

The main hatch of the shuttle opened with a hiss. Still bemoaning his misfortunes, Cang stepped inside. It was fairly big for a shuttle, with a larger area behind the cockpit for passengers and cargo.

"Well...this ain't so bad." Activating the light in his omni tool, he swept it around the area. He weighed up his options. The commander wasn't expecting him to report in for a while. He had enough to time to search around for some valuables. A basic VI would probably be worth more than a month's pay.

The shuttle was in pretty poor shape. Scorches on the outside revealed that someone had taken several potshots at it with an automatic rifle. The civilian grade barriers hadn't done much to protect it. The ladder leading to the cockpit had been shaken loose. Cang had to pull away a broken beam and prop it up against the wall in order to gain access to it. It was a wonder that the ship had maintained its structural integrity.

The makeshift step slid out from under his feet, depositing him with a yelp on the floor of the shuttle. With a frustrated groan, Cang got back on his feet...and found himself face to face with a small human child.

She stared at him with big blue eyes, seemingly petrified by him. Cang felt his excitement building as he reached out to grab her. Human children were a highly prized commodity on the Omega market. Even if the captain only gave him a ten percent cut, it'd be enough to impress the dancer in Afterlife. And if he got enough...

Miranda sunk her teeth into the batarians hand. He howled with surprise and pain, whipping his other limbs away from her vicinity.

"Why you little varren bitch!" Kang snarled. "I'll teach you some manners!"

"Stay back," Miranda ignited her biotics. "Or I'll flay you alive!"

"A biotic too?" Cang forgot his pain. "You're going to be worth a fortune!"

Whipping out his stun baton, he advanced on her. Miranda shrunk back. She was tired and hungry. A show of force was all she could muster. The biotic feats she had produced back on Pragia had drained away her energy. She couldn't...what was that? Behind the batarian, the air shimmered, as if it was somehow displaced.

Cang saw the surprise in his victim's eyes, and noticed that they were staring past his shoulder. He turned to find out what she was staring at...but was too late to prevent four thousand volts entering his body through the back of his neck.

"You idiot!" A male voice hissed from out of nowhere. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well I couldn't just let him tap her out!" A playful female voice retorted. "Come on Keji, let's take her with us."

"Are you insane?" The air shimmered again. This time, a young human male, only about seventeen or eighteen, appeared out of nowhere. He was staring angrily at another blank space. He wore a tight fitting black bodysuit, and had a pistol strapped to his thigh. "We came here to do a job."

"So? We got all the navigation data off their computers, and the Alliance is gonna pay a lot for that stuff. Plus, it's going to save lives." Another person de-cloaked, this time a young woman around the same age, clad in similar attire, with the addition of a hood. She adopted a pleading expression. "Come on, she won't slow us down. I promise, we'll drop her off with the Alliance at the first chance we get."

"Fine," the one called Keji groused. "But only because the contract's in your name. She better not slow us down."

"She won't," the girl patted him on the arm. "Go get the ship warmed up. Make sure the stealth systems are still running. I love you."

"Sure you do," Keji grumbled good naturedly. He disappeared again.

Miranda was even more perplexed. She had just been saved, but who the hell by?

"Hello darling," the teenager squatted down in front of her. "What's your name?"

"Miranda," she finally found her voice. "Miranda Lawson."

"Kasumi Goto, pleased to make your acquaintance." She solemnly extended her hand and shook Miranda's. "That was my partner, Keji. He's a bit bad tempered when I make a stop on jobs."

"Jobs?"

"We're thieves," Kasumi clarified. "We're going to be the best in the galaxy one day. This is just a small job."

"Can I come with you?" Miranda asked. "Off this ship?"

"Sure," Kasumi nodded. "We better get going before that squint over there wakes up. By the way, how did a little girl like you wind up out here?"

Miranda shuddered. "I caught a lucky break."

Kasumi frowned in confusion. "If this is your idea of luck, I'd hate to see you on a bad day."

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**A\N: Bleh, complete one assignment and ten more shall rise up to plague you.**

**From the beginning, I pictured Miranda as being a more sophisticated type of criminal than Jack. She's still got serious emotion scarring, and that will show through in later chapters, but she doesn't have the same streak of mindless aggressive violence that Jack is famous for.**

**Also, I loved Kasumi's character, so I wanted to work her into the story as soon as possible. Next stop: 2164.**


	5. The Most Skilled Extractor

Changing Fate

Chapter Five: The Most Skilled Extractor

I don't own Bioware. Be on the lookout for Inception references.

**NOS PIRIAS**

**ASARI REPUBLIC OF SERRIS**

**2184**

"First off Ms. Dantius, I would like to thank you for agreeing to meet with me," the well dressed man smiled at the current head of Dantius Industries. "In my line of work, I find that people tend not to take me seriously."

"I take the security of my corporation very seriously Mr. Duoka," Nassana finished the last sip of the sweet elassa that had accompanied dessert. The chef was a human, the winner of 'Master Chef Citadel: 2183'. She was worth every last credit of her enormous salary. The food was constantly delicious, and it impressed the hell out of prospective clients...or future employees. "Even if I don't end up hiring you, it fascinates me to know who my competitors are going to for their business."

"Please, call me Ijek. In my culture, we have a saying, 'If you eat a meal in peace with any man, he has become your friend.' We have just enjoyed a most magnificent repast, I'd say that makes us friends."

"Ijek. Ijek Duoka." Nassana repeated carefully. By the Goddess, this human was a charming one. Handsome too, possessing a type of class and decorum not usually seen in humans. She'd never experimented with a human before. A few close friends had hinted that it was an experience not to be missed. "I choose my friends carefully...Ijek."

"Sometimes choice is not necessary," he leaned closer. "Sometimes everything just...clicks?"

Nassana felt a shiver run down her spine. What a pity they weren't alone in here. Ijek had brought a woman with him, probably an escort from one of the agencies around town. The CEO had always wondered why men needed to prove their personal power by draping a piece of eye candy across their arm and parading them in front of others. Ijek certainly had no need of that. He radiated confidence, strength and just a hint of arrogance. Exactly her kind of man.

Briefly diverted from her internal musings, Nassana focused on the escort. Blonde hair, blue eyes, hourglass figure, clad in a brilliant silver dress that left little to the imagination. Attractive enough for a human female, actually...stunningly beautiful if you took the time to focus on it. Didn't look like she had many brains though. Empty headed bimbos like these were prime recruitment material for some of the more diverse entertainments that the agencies offered their clients.

"I think your...friend might like to wait outside? I'm sure you realise that we will be discussing some things that she might find boring."

"Of course, how silly of me," he patted the woman on the shoulder. "You run on down to the lobby Sally, I'll be down in a minute."

"Alright then," the woman looked disappointed. "See you soon."

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Corporal Phil Collins had really wanted to stay in college. If the floor hadn't dropped out of the colonial development market after the Siege of Eden Prime, he might have been able to afford it. His family had lost everything in the market crash, leading the University of Serris to the conclusion that Phillip Avery Collins Jr might be better off finishing his degree in inter-galactic law at a cheaper institution

Twenty credits. That's how much he had in his wallet when the hammer descended. His apartment, bank account, skycar...all gone. He'd begged his friends to loan him the creds for a ticket back home. It was ironic really, he'd never hung out with the other rich kids. Phil had palled around with the average guys, the ones on scholarships and shoestring budgets. He felt more at home with them.

So naturally, they'd tried to find some cash for him. But tickets back to Earth were expensive, and Phil had acknowledged that his mother didn't need another mouth to feed while his father was back to working construction jobs.

Swallowing his pride, and using his last twenty credits to buy a nice tie, Phil had attended an interview with Eclipse Private Security. An avid skyball player, he'd easily passed the fitness tests, and scraped by on the weapons proficiency section. The instructor had noted his lack of experience in combat, and had recommended him for a position in Corporate Security.

There was one word to describe how the militant sections of the mercenary group described CorpSec. And that was...contempt. Glorified security guards, the Eclipse mercs did little but stand around and look imposing. CorpSec was were the stupid, the incompetent and the no-hopers were sent to rot. Phil found himself smarter than most of his peers, leading to a rapid promotion.

And now he stood outside the main dining hall, an assault rifle that he would never use attached to the back clips of his armour, sniffing at food he would never taste and marvelling at wealth he would never experience. Most humiliating of all was staring at a girl who was so far out of his league as to be unaffected when his league experienced a wildcat engine destabilisation and self destructed.

"Hey there," the blonde smiled shyly at him as she approached.

Phil couldn't believe his ears. She was talking to him. TO HIM! "Yes ma'am?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you could show me to the roof. Ijek promised me he'd meet me up there."

"The roof ma'am? That's off limits."

"No no, it's fine. Miss Nassana said we'd enjoy the view. She's such a sweetie," the blonde giggled.

"Yes, very sweet," Phil chewed his words carefully before he spoke them. The last guy to rant on about the paranoia and sheer bitchiness of the asari boss had wound up face down in the river. Nassana could have made the body disappear, but that wasn't her style. She preferred sending a message, telling her employers that she didn't like being talked about behind her back. You didn't piss of Nassana, and if that meant breaking protocol. "Alright, I guess that will be okay. Come on."

"Thanks," she latched onto his arm. "Wow, you must be really strong to wear all this armour. Do you work out a lot?"

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"Well, she's gone," Nassana stood up and moved around to him. "Let's hear your proposal."

"The first thing you should know about me is this," Ijek Duoka folded his hands in his lap. "I specialise in a very specific type of security. In times like these, with information and credits being stored electronically, cyber theft is a very real problem. But if I tried earning a living designing extranet security, I'd go broke. Too many people in that field."

"And the best ones already work for me," Nassana agreed. "What is your specialty then?"

"Physical security," he held up a hand to stifle her amusement. "Yes, I know. With voice scanners, retinal locks, DNA inspections and two billion bit encryption keys on vaults and safes, actual theft is almost non-existent. Would you like me to clue you in on a little secret?"

She leaned in close to hear him.

"The Citadel Consort, Councillor Tevos, Thoris Kan and Andrew Harnett have all been the victims of a new type of thief in the past three years."

Nassana gave a derisive snort. "I think I would have read about the Asari Councillor being the victim of a crime."

"High profile targets tend not to reveal their misfortune to anyone, not even the insurance companies. They don't want to be ridiculed. Imagine if you lost a very sensitive item. Something that would give your enemies cause to laugh at you. You sure wouldn't want that being made public. If it was me, I'd cover it up at every opportunity." Every word Ijek spoke was delivered with conviction. Nassana wasn't affected by the showmanship, but she did a good job of looking impressed.

"So what is this new type of crime?"

"It's called: The Play. It goes in four stages," Ijek explained. "The first stage is simple: Trust. An inside man is infiltrated into the target area. He or she could be a maid or a cleaner. Something nice and inconspicuous, almost unnoticed by the mark. During 'Trust', the insider will secure DNA and voice samples as part of setting the groundwork for the heist."

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"So," Phil turned back to the escort. "This is the roof. I should probably wait with you till your friend comes."

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," she smiled disarmingly. "I'm just admiring the view."

"Sorry ma'am, but I've breached procedure enough for one night."

"Of course," the escort shrugged. "My mistake."

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw something move. He whipped around in time for a stun dart to plant itself in his cheek. Twenty milligrams of hydro-corezine was immediately injected into his blood stream. The fast acting drug knocked him out cold long before he hit the ground.

"Hey Randa," Kasumi Goto de-cloaked in front of her partner. "Took you long enough. It's freezing up here."

"Had to wait for Keji to start his little speech," Miranda Lawson pulled the wig off her head, revealing her own raven locks done up in a tight bun. "Honestly, his aliases are sometimes quite silly. I'm surprised she didn't recognise it. Keji Okuda, Ijek Duoka, how could someone miss that?"

"As I keep telling you, the world is full of stupid people. It's how we make a living. Kasumi tossed her two duffel bags. "Your suit's in there, you can change in the elevator."

Taking a few seconds to drag Collins out of sight, they stepped into the lift, Miranda inputting the stolen code. Slipping her shoulders out of the straps on her dress, the younger thief quickly pulled off the flimsy garment and began donning her custom made Aldrin Labs Mark VIII Infiltration suit. Almost identical to the one Kasumi wore, Miranda had decided against a hood. Instead, Miranda wore a Sentinel Visor to help her avoid security systems. Laser trip wires, cameras, holographic booby traps, they were all revealed.

The suit was not quite the equal of a hardsuit, but the invisibility features more than made up for the lack of armour plates. It was designed for sneaking around combat instead of running in headlong. If things got tense, it had shields capable of blocking a shotgun blast at close range, and a layer of non-Newtonian gel contained under the surface that would harden into a ceramic like substance the second the shields failed.

Next stop, Sublevel Four. Phase One had gone perfectly.

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"Step Two," Keji moved closer to Nassana. "That's always the tricky one. Thieves call it 'The Smoke'. It involves neutralising the security around the target. It makes them easier to catch because it can't be done quietly. I assume you've got guards on your valuables?"

"The really important ones, yes," Nassana thought of the vault buried deep beneath the tower.

"Good," Keji nodded approvingly. "The more guards there are, the harder it is for them to do it easily. Two con men on Bekenstein got nailed because they started a firefight in an attempt to get away from an angry mark. As a rule, thieves don't make good fighters."

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"Silenced pistols?" Miranda read off from her checklist.

"Check," Kasumi passed her an M-4 Shruiken.

"Grenade launchers?"

"Two M-100's equipped with riot shells."

"Stun gas?"

"As requested."

"My amp?"

"L5x coming right up," Kasumi watched as Miranda slipped the amp into the skin coloured port on the back of her neck. "Is that everything?"

"That's everything," Miranda slipped a shell into the barrel of her grenade launcher. "Activate your cloak and fire on my mark."

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**SUBLEVEL FOUR**

**MAIN VAULT**

When the door opened on the elevator, Tech Sergeant Faust nearly jumped out of his skin. The only time an elevator came down from up top was when the guard shift changed, or the boss came for an inspection. On the verge of his tenth consecutive victory in the nightly Skyllian Five tournament, Faust was anything but ready for an inspection.

"Ma'am, I can explain..." Faust sprang from his chair at the card table and spun to face his irate employer...only to find himself staring at thin air. "What the...? Somebody tell maintenance to take a look at the lift, it's playing up again."

The ERCS Non-Lethal Riot Grenade was a popular item for C-SEC and a whole lot of other law enforcement agencies. Made out of specially treated rubber, it was designed to be launched from an M-100 Heavy Weapons System (also manufactured by ERCS) and was the number one pain giver in a riot-cop's arsenal.

The onboard targeting software in the launcher automatically identified individuals most likely to be a threat, then uploaded the targeting recommendations to the grenade's micro-chip. Cheap, efficient and very painful to the person on the receiving end.

Two such shells appeared out of nowhere. In midair, they split into pieces, each of the seven guards targeted by at least two chunks of rubber. In three seconds, every guard was lying on the floor, incapable of movement. Kasumi and Miranda went from guard to guard, injecting them with the same drug that had knocked out Collins.

Phase Two completed without so much as a broken window.

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"Some criminals have problems with Phase Three," Keji sipped his elassa, cautiously observing his host. Dantius was smart and she knew it. That's what made his part so easy. He was telling her how the smartest people could get beaten, and she believed that it could never happen to her. "Safecracking is a dying art. The best ones have already made their scores and retried early. The same kind of people that have the smarts to beat a Norian 5000, are the guys hired by corporations to design ways to make their vaults impregnable. But, provided you have a competent cracker, then 'The Mirror' mostly works out. Get in, find what you're looking for, and get out. The great ones can even make you think they didn't take anything."

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"Nassana Dantius," Miranda's omni-tool proclaimed. The voice scanner analysed the tone and flicked green.

=DNA sample please=

Kasumi pressed the small nail clipping into place. Miranda had managed to take the single millimetre of fingernail off Nassana without the asari even feeling it.

Another green light.

=Password and encryption key=

Miranda inputted the password as Kasumi attached her tiny TRANSFER computer to the keypad. The miniature supercomputer immediately ran through every possible number, permutation and combination of the ten number security code.

=POWERISTHEONLYGOAL accepted. 3760165531 accepted. Welcome back Madame Dantius=

"I'm almost ashamed of how easy this is getting," Miranda strode into the vault. "No cameras. I doubt she wants what's in here on record. Two trip wires over there though."

"Got 'em," Kasumi aimed her omni tool. A second later, the lasers vanished. Miranda quickly located her target, a computer terminal at the rear end of the vault.

"Not even a script protector," Miranda growled as she activated the data worm. "A child could get in here. A child with narcolepsy. This has to be the most boring night of my life."

"Just another word for 'safe', honey," Kasumi patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. "You get the info?"

"Yep," Miranda's omni-tool beeped, the download was complete. "What's on here will put Binary Helix at the top of the negotiating table next time Dantius Corp starts getting big ideas about challenging the patents Binary Helix won last year."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer person," Kasumi carefully collected the loose bits of rubber from around the place. Once the Eclipse mercs woke up, they'd find nothing. A closed vault, no bruises, no drugs in their systems. Not even a record of the elevator coming down to the level.

The idiots would be so confused, they probably wouldn't even report it.

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"So you have Trust, Smoke and Mirror," Nassana was intrigued. "What's the last step?"

"The Walk Out. Sounds just like what it is. They leave, the escape route will vary." Keji replied truthfully. "So, do I have you interested?"

"Indeed you do," Nassana stood up. "I will consider your offer very carefully. Thank you for your time Mr. Duoka."

"It was my pleasure Miss Dantius," Keji stood and bowed respectfully. "I eagerly await your reply."

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The elevator back up to the lobby was a frenzy of activity. While Kasumi repacked the weapons and hacking gear into the bags, Miranda stripped off her catsuit and stepped back into her dress. The wig went back on, the high heels slipped into place, and Kasumi cloaked. By the time Miranda stepped back into the lobby, she was again 'Sally', empty headed escort.

Keji was waiting for them. In his sharp business suit, dyed hair and fake moustache, he looked every inch the professional. It wasn't until the disguise came off that the fun-loving criminal would emerge. He had a Robin-Hood complex that would have put the ancient archer to shame, but his heart was in the right place. Miranda couldn't ask for a better friend, and Kasumi wouldn't swap him for any other man.

"Well Sally, shall we take our leave?"

"Of course," Miranda forced out another giggle. "I can't wait to get back to our place."

Kasumi's voice whispered into her ear. "Don't push your luck."

"Hey! Stop!" Phil Collins staggered out of the elevator. "Don't let that woman leave!"

Miranda felt her heart sink. Why hadn't they given him a bigger dose? The whole plan was ruined. They'd have to shoot their way out. How fast could she get her guns out of Kasumi's bag? Was her amp near the top?

"Is there a problem?" Keji's voice was ice cold as he addressed the young mercenary.

"Your partner..." Phil breathed deeply. "She knocked me out up on the roof. She..."

"Corporal Collins!" Nassana Dantius appeared from behind him. "Why aren't you at yours post?"

"Ma'am," Phil tried to explain. "These people are..."

"My guests," she snapped at the hapless guard. "And you are harassing them. I won't tolerate this kind of impertinence from a college dropout. You are dismissed. Collect your final paycheck tonight."

Phil's mouth dropped open. But how could she...did she even...fuck it. Whoever these people were, he hoped they had done something that would make Nassana's life miserable. He stalked back toward the elevator. Maybe if he didn't eat for the next month, he could make the paycheck stretch out long enough to find a new job.

"My apologies," Nassana shook her head. "My employees sometimes need a strong hand to show them their place."

"Completely understandable," Keji reassured her. "Goodnight Ms. Dantius. I hope to see you again very soon."

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**BELLAGIA HOTEL**

**PENTHOUSE SUITE**

**ONE HOUR LATER**

"To Nassana Dantius, Binary Helix and the four million credits we just made!" Miranda lifted her champagne glass. "May the corporations never get along and do honest business with each other."

"Agreed," Kasumi had been half in hysterics for the past hour. "And may Keji's good looks continue to impress every female this side of Council space."

"I have eyes only for you Kasumi," Keji caught her in a bone-crushing hug. "Well, that, and I know you could make me penniless in a few minutes if you wanted to."

"Take note Miranda," Kasumi lectured her 'apprentice'. "If you want a man to stay faithful, make him financially dependent on you."

"I'll keep that in mind." Miranda felt slightly envious as she watched her two mentors interact. Their relationship was so...normal. Nothing like she'd ever experienced for herself. She was twenty five years old next month, incredibly rich, and very satisfied with her life. It just felt hollow at times. "I might hit the bunks, been a long day."

"Keji and I will be gone early," Kasumi called out from where she had pinned him to the couch. "Going to Bekenstein for a vacation. Nothing but silk sheets, sea shores and sunshine for three whole weeks."

"Roger that, I might head to the Citadel, see if I can pick up some new mods for my suit," Miranda dived on top of the king sized bed. She tossed and turned for a few minutes, unable to sleep. Something was nagging at her conscience.

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Well, that was it, Phil decided as he walked down the cold street. No money, no job, no future. He'd borrow enough for a ticket home to Earth and sign on for colonial enlistment. Being a farmer wasn't his dream job, but it was better than starving.

His omni tool flashed silently, pulling him out of his self pity. It was a statement from the Bank of Serris. Probably his bankruptcy information coming through. 'Phil Collins,' it probably stated. 'Professional failure.'

Sure enough, his personal account name came up. Underneath it was a number.

Four hundred thousand credits.

His jaw dropped again.

There was another message on his omni tool. It read: 'Sorry about the job. Two hundred to get yourself back into college, a hundred to pay for living expenses, and another hundred because you seem like a nice guy.'

It was signed 'The Ghost'.

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Miranda deposited her omni-tool back on her dressing table. A smile flicked over her face as she drifted off to sleep. This was most definitely the life to be leading.

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**A/N: For maximum effect, listen to 'Mind Heist' when reading this fic :D**

**Next Chapter: The Loyalist.**


	6. Guardian of the Gates

Changing Fate

Chapter Five: Guardian of the Gates

I don't own Bioware

**CYTORUS REFINERY**

**ZORYA INDUSTRIAL ZONE**

**2184**

Vido Santiago was a dead man. He had known this from the second the observation posts reported five assault shuttles descending from the atmosphere. There was only one organisation that would be coming for him. And only one person leading that assault.

Each of the shuttles had twenty Cerberus commandos on board. Superbly trained, well equipped, with plenty of combat experience. The Blue Suns had been outnumbered, outclassed and outgunned.

Beside him, his most trusted bodyguards fell, gunned down by accurate assault rifle fire and ripped to pieces by biotics. They fought desperately, knowing what awaited them if they failed.

"In the name of the Spirits, don't shoot," Commander Kirus threw away his rifle. "I surrender damn you. I surren..."

A single pistol shot ended his pleading. The gunfire stopped. Vido backed up against the wall. The emergency lighting failed, he was embraced with darkness. He swung his pistol from left to right, searching for a target.

"Come and get me!" He shouted defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you Cerberus pigs!"

There was a flash of blue to his right. Vido spun to shoot, only to have his pistol ripped out of his hands. A second later, he found himself floating above the ground. By the light of the biotic field, he could see the area around him. He could hear the curt clip of heels against the catwalk. With each step, his level of panic arose.

"Commander Santiago. So nice to see you again," Operative Jacqueline Harper stared up at the older man. She was dressed in her normal attire: a black and white catsuit. Vido had asked her about it once. Apparently, the hexagonal bumps on her suit contained satchels of non-Newtonian gel that doubled as emergency armour. Add shields and her biotic barrier and she was almost as well armoured as a marine. "I'm sure you never expected to see me again. What with you revealing my location to the Collectors. It was quite a brutal firefight, but I had a trump card up my sleeve. Lieutenant Taylor was waiting with my transport, we fought our way out."

The emergency lighting slowly powered back up. Around the warehouse, Vido could see Cerberus troopers checking the bodies of his employees. A dark skinned man in black combat armour was standing a few feet behind Jacqueline. Jacob Taylor was looking worse for wear than the last time Vido had seen him. Three parallel scars decorated the side of his face, and an eye patch covered the place where a Collector Particle Beam had melted his left eyeball.

"Come on Jack. That was just business. Isn't that what you are? A businesswoman? The Collectors made me a better offer."

"One that I would have doubled if you had told me about it," Jacqueline pointed out. "You should have made a deal with me Vido. I'm more forgiving than the Collectors."

"I rolled the dice and lost," Vido snarled. "If you're going to kill me, then get it over with."

"I wouldn't dirty my hands with you," Jacqueline replied contemptuously. "And Lieutenant Taylor doesn't believe in revenge. It's an adorable trait of his."

She shut off the biotic field keeping Vido suspended. He fell back down to the floor. "Instead of killing you, I decided to bring an old friend to say hello."

Vido heard another set of boots behind him. Turning around, he met the eyes of Zaeed Massani.

"Vido," Zaeed's tone suggested a man greeting a long lost brother. The knife in his hand suggested otherwise. "Great to see you again mate. How've you been doing? How 'bout we catch up on old times?"

Santiago's screams echoed throughout the warehouse. Jacob looked away in disgust, Jacqueline continued to observe with a clinical detatchment. The process was over in one minute, Vido's face frozen in one final grimace.

Zaeed wiped the blood off his blade. "Damn that felt good. Thanks for leading me right to him 'Arper."

"It was my pleasure," she looked completely unfazed by what she had just witnessed. "I take it our deal is still in effect?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," Zaeed nodded. "Sure, I'll sign on with Cerberus. At least till the Collectors are done with."

"Excellent," Jacqueline activated her earpiece. =All units, we're done here. Operative Yeong will stay behind with two squads to secure the refinery for the recovery team. All other operatives will return to their shuttles and evacuate back to the _Hades_. Harper out.=

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**BELLAGIA HOTEL**

**NOS PIRIAS**

**SERRIS**

Miranda slipped on her dressing gown and stepped out of her bedroom. As she had expected, Kasumi and Keji were long gone. There was a mug of freshly dripped Arabian coffee in the machine, a parting gift from her partners.

It had been the luckiest day of her life when she first met Keji and Kasumi. Initially, Keji had demanded they drop her off with the Alliance. But the second Miranda mentioned Cerberus, his entire attitude changed. Keji had had several run ins with Cerberus, he had seen some of their projects first hand. Miranda had stayed with them for a while, they became her unofficial guardians. Eventually, they became too busy. Their services were in constant demand.

They had arranged for Miranda to go to a foster family. An elderly couple had adopted her, the retired Alliance Major and his wife proving to be very suitable parents. For two months, Miranda had experienced a real family environment. There was structure and discipline, but also love and comfort. The nightmares of Pragia had faded. At her new school, Miranda had even made friends. Her life had been going well.

Until Cerberus tracked her down.

Miranda had come home to find her adopted parents dead, and three men in expensive suits waiting in the house. They had tried tranquilising her, Miranda had killed all three of them with her biotics. Searching their bodies had revealed their identity...and their orders. 'Track down and capture Subject Zero. If necessary, terminate Subject Zero and retrieve her body for analysis.'

Miranda had run again, staying one step ahead of the Cerberus hunters for almost a year. Keji and Kasumi had found her at a homeless shelter on the Citadel, and spirited her away. The three had reached a collective decision: Miranda would stay with them. Over time, she began to demand that they take her on jobs. Keji initially objected, but Kasumi eventually wore him down.

Miranda had been trained in parkour, acrobatics, stealth and camouflage, hacking and electronics, light weapons, explosives and (for some reason) classical violin. Kasumi's reason was that even thieves needed culture.

It all might have gone so differently. If Kasumi hadn't rescued her off that batarian ship...Miranda shuddered. She'd seen the inside of a prison cell a few times in her ten year career. The idea of spending a lifetime as a slave was...revolting.

Miranda had two tattoos on her body. One was on her left forearm. It was her Cerberus identification number. A single zero. The other was the real one, the meaningful one. The single kanji symbol representing one word. Family. Her only family. Keji and Kasumi.

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**CERBERUS CRUISER '**_**HADES'**_

**APPROACHING LAZARUS STATION**

=Operative Harper, we're half an hour out from the station ma'am= The Hades' CO was senior in rank to Jacqueline, but he deferred to her authority anyway. It was a bad idea to piss of the boss's daughter.

=Understood Captain= Jacqueline terminated the link. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, she pushed the figure lying next to her. "Rise and shine Jacob."

"It's too early," her lover's voice was muffled by his pillow. "You tire me out."

"You never object to it," she smiled. She and Jacob were friends. They had been friends ever since they stopped the batarians from poisoning the Council. The last few months had seen a few...benefits, added to the relationship. It wasn't love. They were too alike to ever fall in love. He was sometimes shocked by her methods of completing missions, but he understood her.

Standing up, Jacqueline let the sheets fall away from her. Jacob whistled appreciatively as he reverently observed her back. Several tattoos decorated it, the evidence of a wild time in college. Intelligent and a rapid thinker, Jacqueline had attained a master's degree in intergalactic political studies before joining Cerberus. Many assumed that she would be relegated to rear-echelon duties, far away from danger. They were wrong.

Within a year, Jacqueline had become renowned as the most ruthless agent in Cerberus. She was assigned to operations that The Illusive Man deemed of the highest importance. Her eye for talent had netted Cerberus some of its most promising recruits.

She was also drop-dead gorgeous. Her body was slim and athletic, her eyes just the right shade of brown and her hair a pleasant, silky red.

"You're a pig," she politely informed her subordinate.

"Doesn't stop you sleeping with me," Jacob grinned, then faltered. "Look, Jack. There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"You want to request reassignment from Lazarus?"

Jacob's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"I read your personal logs." Her tone was unapologetic. "It's okay, I understand. You're going stir crazy. I've arranged with The Illusive Man for you to be transferred to the Telemachus Cell. You'll be leading assassination teams in batarian space."

"Thanks," Jacob relaxed. "I'll miss this. Just so you know. It's been fun."

"I wasn't looking for something romantic Jacob," Jacqueline laughed. "We're not really fairy tale material."

"I guess not," he began to dress. "I'll pick up my gear and head back to Minuteman for my reassignment."

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The door chimed insistently. Throwing her legs off the couch, Miranda paused the current episode of Sex & the Citadel and quickly scuttled over to the doorway. Outside, a handsome human male was waiting.

"Hey, I'm Josh," he grinned. "One of your friends ordered a masseuse for you?"

"Thank you Kasumi," Miranda murmured, resisting the urge to drool at the sight in front of her. "Come on in Josh. Where do you want me?"

"Just lie down on the couch," he placed his bag of oils on the table and flexed his fingers. "Trust me, I'm a professional."

"I'll bet," Miranda slipped off her dressing gown and lay face down. "Alright, go to work Josh."

"Certainly ma'am," Josh slipped the needle into Miranda's arm. Ironically, the substance within it was exactly the same as the one Miranda had used on the guards at DantiusCorp. Her eyes widened slightly, then unconsciousness descended.

Lieutenant Joshua Peck of the Blue Suns flipped open his communicator. "Warden Kuril? I got her sir. No sign of her friends, but we definitely have The Ghost."

=Excellent work,= The turian replied. =Prepare her for transport immediately. She won't escape this time= 

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**PRISON SHIP: PURGATORY **

**BLUE SUNS MERCENARY CORPORATION**

**ONE WEEK LATER**

The first thing occurred to Miranda when she finally woke up, was that she wasn't being massaged. In fact, she wasn't lying in a luxurious penthouse on Serris. She was, in fact, strapped into an inactive cryo unit, surrounded by Blue Suns and heavy mechs.

"Warden Kuril," she managed a polite nod despite her restraints. "What a lovely surprise."

"Indeed," the barefaced turian's mandibles split apart in a smile. "The famous Ghost, back in her old home."

"Is there a reason I'm not back in my old cell?"

"There is actually," Kuril paced in front of her. "After your fifth breakout, I decided that you were too dangerous to be let loose on my ship. So you're going to spend the rest of your sentence in cryo, out of harm's way."

"I'm not sure I want to spend the next thirty years frozen down there," Miranda was working hard to restrain her panic. "Maybe I could pay my own bail?"

"I've already confiscated every credit in your accounts. You really should improve on your security," the Warden was enjoying his moment of glory.

"My friends will get me out of here. And then I'm going to kill you," Miranda promised.

"Kill me Ghost? I'm disappointed, you struck me as being a cut above the rest of the scum in this prison. It really saddens me to have to freeze your assets," Kuril shrugged. "And as for your friends? Mr. Okuda ways killed two days ago by Donovan Hock. If Miss Goto isn't dead by now, she soon will be. So unless somebody eventually wants to bail you out for a job, you're going to be in here for a while."

"You motherfucker!" Miranda bucked wildly, trying to concentrate her biotics on the turian. Her aura snapped on and off, there was a dampening field surrounding her. "Fuck you!"

"You've got quite the mouth on you Ghost," Kuril reprimanded her. "Don't worry, I won't forget to let you out in three decades."

"I'm going to skin you alive you bastard!" Miranda screamed as the cryo unit began to descend. "You hear me? I'm going to fuck you up!"

The cryo jets activated. Miranda's face froze in a last, twisted expression of defiance.

"Such a waste," Kuril turned and walked back up the ramp. "I want three YMIR mechs guarding her. The Ghost isn't getting out this time."

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**A/N: I always thought that Jacob was too much a solider to stick around as a glorified security guard. He's going to go off and do his own thing for a while. But don't worry, we'll see him again. And why did I give him an eyepatch? Eyepatches are cool.**


	7. Still Alive

Changing Fate

Chapter Seven: Still Alive

I don't own Bioware

_So much pain._

"Ma'am, there's something on the scanners. The readings are off."

_I wasn't in pain a few seconds ago._

"How could he be waking up yet?"

_I wasn't feeling __**anything**__ a few seconds ago._

"He's not ready Wilson, give him the sedative."

_White room. No, not completely white. Grey and black. Everything sterile and chrome._

"It's not working ma'am."

_Med lab? Hospital ship maybe? They must have found me after the crash. Had to be Alenko. Good old Alenko. That smart bastard could find a needle in a haystack._

"Out of my way you idiot!"

_There's a crash. Somebody just got their ass tossed into something. Probably Chakwas. Helen never did suffer fools._

"I told you your calculations were off. Run the numbers again."

_There's someone looking down on me. She's beautiful. It's a strange thing to think about. But she is._

"Shepard, don't panic. You're safe. Stay calm."

_Hey, darling. I'm Commander Antony B. Shepard. I don't panic. Ever. There's ten thousand batarians on Elysium that will attest to that._

"Wilson, I want to speak to you immediately! You and I are going to have a little talk."

_Why? Don't leave so soon. Hold my hand for a little bit. I'm feeling so...damn...tired..._

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**LAZARUS STATION**

**MEDICAL LAB ONE**

**2185**

=Shepard=

"Not now Ma, it's too early," Antony growled, rolling over on his side. "School can wait."

=Shepard!=

"Five more minutes Captain," he groaned as he felt the headache pounding in his skull. Too many beers with Kaidan at the officer's club on Arcturus. The Normandy would be shipping out in five hours. The command team had been toasting the completion of the new ship. He hoped Anderson, Alenko, Presley and Adams were feeling just as bad as he was.

=SHEPARD!=

"Chief, I'll take a look at the damn reports in the morning, not before!" Shepard recognized it as a woman's voice. Only one woman yelled at him when she was angry. Gunnery Chief Williams had a voice that would make a Drill Instructor cringe. But Gunnery Chief Williams was dead.

So was he.

=SHEPARD!=

"What the shit?" Antony sat up. "What the fucking shit?"

"Glad to see I have your attention," the voice commented with an ironic snort. "This facility is under attack. Get your..."

"No, seriously," his head whipped from left to right. "What the fuck is this? This isn't any Alliance hospital ship I've ever seen. And I've seen most of the ones in the fleet."

"Shepard, you..."

"Do you want me to list them all?" Antony became uncomfortably aware that he wasn't wearing any clothes. "There's the Clementine, the Nightingale, the Mercy, the..."

"I get it Shepard!" The voice cut him off sharply. "You're memory is fine. But you've got about three minutes before security mechs reach your position and kill you. You don't want that, do you?"

"Not particularly."

"Then get your armour out of that locker in the corner."

Antony grabbed a folded undersuit from the table next to the locker. His fingers were clumsy, and his muscles felt like jelly. A task that should have taken him four seconds took him thirty. Prying open the locker, he let out a long, low whistle at the sight that greeted him.

It looked like an upgraded version of his favourite Colossus hard suit. Reaching for it, Shepard experimentally lifted the shoulder plates. His red stripe of an N7 team leader was stencilled on. Red blood. Human blood. Among his peers, it signified his superiority, his right to lead them. To his enemies, it was a sign to start running. An N7 had arrived, a fist of their most feared deity, come to render judgement.

The shoulder plate felt lighter than his old armour, but the material was thicker, tougher. That was good. Wearing heavy armour had always slowed him down. Back in the hunt for Saren, Ashley had regularly pumped more iron than Shepard and Kaidan combined, she could always move faster, even when weighed down by armour and weapons.

As he strapped on the plates, Shepard noticed something. Motorized joints had been fitted, as well as shock absorbers. Normally prohibitively expensive to fit to combat armour, Antony had always had the ground team attach the latter item to their armour whenever there was a chance of going up against biotics. This stuff wasn't standard issue by the Alliance. Strange.

There wasn't a helmet in the locker. Annoying. The one rule that Shepard had always followed: Life's a bitch, so wear a helmet. You never knew when somebody is going to shoot you in the head.

A pistol rested at the top of the locker. The ERCS logo was imprinted on the barrel. Strange, the handgun looked slimmer, more modern than the standard Striker sidearm that ERCS normally retailed.

"You know how to use that thing?" The voice spoke again. For the first time, Shepard analysed it. The accent was from Terra Nova, upper class. Educated, cultured.

"Are you kidding me? I've taken money off every wannabe pistol marksman in the Fleet," he boasted, taking aim at a glass vial on the shelf. It wasn't an empty boast. Garrus, Wrex, Williams, Tali and Liara, all good shots, had lost to him in multiple shooting matches. Only Alenko had beaten him. Fucking Sentinels. Every single one that Shepard had met possessed unnatural skills with handguns.

He pulled the trigger, meaning to blast the vial away. Nothing happened. Antony suddenly felt very foolish.

"It doesn't have a thermal clip you moron," there was amusement in the voice now.

"What's a thermal clip?"

"Reverse engineered Geth technology," the voice explained. "Look like an old film canister."

"Are there any in here?" Shepard looked around.

"Not in a med-bay. You'll have to find them as you go along. Are you ready?"

"No."

"Excellent. Good luck."

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**KITHOI WARD**

**CITADEL**

**LOWER MARKETS**

Kasumi Goto was having a bad day. There was a hole in her left leg, her suit tech was failing, and her pistol only had five shots left. That was the good news.

The bad news was that there were three heavily armed, pissed off individuals chasing her. They were heavily armed because they were Hock Private Security Contractors. They were pissed off because she had already killed two of their friends.

"Come on Miss Goto!" Kasumi heard a man's voice. "You can't run away from us forever."

"I'm pretty sure I can do this all day," she retorted, bouncing her voice off the walls so they couldn't pinpoint her location. "You idiots better run while I'm in a good mood."

"A lot of defiance in a tiny package," the merc jeered. "Mr. Hock said if you come quietly he won't kill you. He just wants that info to crack your boyfriend's box...just like he cracked his head."

"I'm going to kill you, _shofu no musuko!_" Kasumi snarled. "And then I'm going to kill Hock."

"Why don't you come out and get us then?" The merc activated his omni-tool, scanning for the signature of Kasumi's tech. A bleep revealed her hiding behind a stall for Morlan's Famous Enterprises.

"Fuck you! You come to me!"

"Don't mind if I do," the merc charged forward, rounding the corner and lifting his rifle to shoot Kasumi right in the head. He paused with shock. Kasumi wasn't there. Just one of the old fire suppression systems. "What the..."

Kasumi shot the red canister and watched with satisfaction as the three mercs were tossed backward, the concussive blast turning their internal organs to jelly. Physics was a bitch.

"Present for you," she muttered, limping toward the stairs. There was a med-clinic nearby, she'd steal some medi-gel, then lay low for a few days. Hock's goons were getting closer. The bastard must be desperate for the key she had. The only way to unlock what Keji had stored on his greybox. Not enough that Hock had killed him, he had desecrated his body and refused to allow him the chance to rest in peace.

Donovan Hock would pay dearly.

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Shepard had learned several things in the ten minutes he had been conscious.

Number One: This new pistol pulled slightly up and to the left when fired.

Number Two: The new pistol wasn't responsible for the fact that most of his shots were going nowhere.

Number Three: The shields on this new suit were very, very good and this fact was conducive to his continued survival.

Throwing himself flat, Shepard jammed his finger down on the trigger. The mech's own bullets passed just over his head. Frustrated with a helpless rage, Shepard waited for the LOKI to reload, then charged. A metre away, he began pulling the trigger. At point blank range, his bullets tore chunks out of the LOKI. The damn thing refused to down. Grabbing a broken metal floor tile, Shepard smashed it in the face. The flashing red eye went dark, the mech collapsed.

"That's right bitch," Shepard muttered. "Fear Commander Shepard. The man who can't hit anything unless he's standing right next to it."

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Cerberus Weapons Sergeant Zaeed Massani was having a bad day. First off, the commissary had been out of bacon and coffee. Anyone who knew him would swear to the fact that without his morning bacon, eggs, toast and coffee, he was a dangerous man to be around.

Second, his attempts to repair Jessie had been foiled by a lack of parts. The impossibly old rifle just wouldn't accept parts from newer models. Maybe if he hit up the back alleys on Omega, he might be able to find a new heatsink, but that point was irrelevant at the moment.

The third, last and most important factor in ruining his day...were the mechs tryng to kill him.

"Easy job she says," Zaeed grumbled. "Just be the security chief till Shepard wakes up she says. Yeah, real easy."

He had holed up in the security checkpoint near the vents. The mechs had prevented him from getting to the main armoury, but he had his sidearm and a small mountain of thermal clips. Standing up, he snapped off a quick double tap that took a mech right through the CPU.

Zaeed heard the door behind him open, and cursed. He should have sealed it off. But instead of a mech, a man clad in jet black armour rolled through, blazing away at the mechs on the other side of the bridge.

"Hey there," the man grinned. "Good to see someone around this place."

Zaeed looked in amazement at Commander Antony Shepard. "You're Shepard? Didn't know they woke you up yet."

"Yeah I'm Shepard," Antony fired a few shots over the edge at the other mechs. "You sound surprised."

"Well, I didn't think Commander Shepard would miss a couple of playground shots," Zaeed gestured at the unharmed mechs.

"Bite me," Antony offered. "My aim's just a bit off."

"I'll say," Zaeed reached for three black globes on his belt. "Look, stand back. I'm gonna hit 'em with the good stuff."

"What's..." Shepard was interrupted by the roar of Zaeed's inferno grenades wiping out the mechs on the other side. "...the good stuff?" he finished lamely.

"Now, there are two things you need to know before we go anywhere," Zaeed holstered his pistol. "One, I'm Zaeed Massani. Fuck with me and I'll kill you. Wouldn't be too difficult right now. Two, you're Commander Shepard, and you've been dead for two years."

Shepard felt his grin faltering. "Two...years?"

"Yep," the Cerberus mercenary confirmed. "Two years. All of it spent on the operating table. Don't really understand the science, hell, Operative 'Arper got confused sometimes. All I know is, you're not a clone or a mech. You're you, with a hell of lot of cybernetics crammed inside you for good measure."

"I see," Antony blinked. "Well...fuck."

"Yeah," Zaeed patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. "I can see how that might ruin your day somewhat. Come on, we gotta get to the escape shuttles."

=This is Wilson= Zaeed's radio activated. =Is anyone still alive out there?=

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Operative Jacqueline Harper was having a bad day. She had broken a nail during morning sparring with Zaeed. The Illusive Man had been on her back about waking Shepard up. As was her prerogative as the head of Lazarus Cell, she had firmly insisted that they wait until Shepard's muscles had been fully rebuilt and his fine motor skills repaired. Two weeks would be plenty of time.

And that plan had been fine until mechs burst into her office, intent on doing her serious bodily harm. She had held them off long enough to remote activate her insurance policy, the wake up injection, directly into Shepard's bloodstream.

The camera feeds had not revealed anything particularly special about Shepard. He was staggering all over the place, and missing easy shots. That was to be expected. His new muscles were unused to handling the recoil of a heavy pistol. His synthetic eyes were probably out of alignment too. It could all be fixed.

Shepard's command skills seemed to be unaffected though. Jacqueline had been forced to retreat toward the shuttles, but she could still access the mobile camera feeds. He had linked up with Zaeed and was moving efficiently and carefully through the maintenance areas.

Already, the mercenary and the Commander had established an effective strategy. One went forward while the other covered him. Despite Shepard's lack of accuracy, the volume of fire was quickly exterminating the hacked mechs. Maybe things weren't so bad. Shepard was alive and kicking.

One thing was for certain. There would be an ass kicking coming down the chain of command for this security breach. And her father or not, The Illusive Man would be delivering that kicking.

"Count your minutes Wilson," Jacqueline murmured. "They're numbered.

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"Alright, enough of this," Shepard declared as the last mech fell. Wilson and Massani gazed at him expectantly. "I've been dead for two years, alive for twenty minutes, and I've got no idea what's going on. Added to that, I'm expecting a bullet in the back from either one of you any second. Who do you work for? The Alliance?"

Zaeed fidgeted uneasily. "Not exactly. We're sort of like an...offshoot of the Alliance."

"Meaning?"

"Well, we engage in certain activities that the Alliance considers...criminal. But we still serve humanity."

"Cerberus?"

"Afraid so mate."

Shepard aimed his pistol at the dead centre of Zaeed's head. "You fucking terrorist."

"Calm down Shepard," Zaeed adopted a conciliatory tone. "I'm no terrorist mate. I'm just a merc that Jackie hired to keep the guns clean and the security tight. You're not going to shoot me."

"What makes you so sure?" Shepard had both hands on the pistol grip. He was set to put a bullet right into Zaeed's forehead.

"Because you're aiming that thing ten inches to my left."

"Fuck," Shepard growled, reluctantly lowering the pistol. "How about you put down your gun, and we kill each other like civilized people?"

"I think I'll wait till it's more of a challenge," Zaeed grinned. "Look Shepard, you're not getting out of here without us. Let's avoid killing each other until we're on the shuttle."

"Fair enough," Shepard glanced at Wilson. "You. You take point."

"What?" Wilson spluttered. "Why?"

"I can't shoot mechs so I can't go first, and I want to kill this ugly bastard myself," Shepard gestured at Zaeed. "You. Take. Point."

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Five minutes and twenty dead mechs later, the three men had finally reached the shuttle bay. Wilson and Shepard were both out of breath. Zaeed hesitated and looked behind.

"Look, Shepard, you and Wilson get out of here, I better go back for Jackie," he turned back to Shepard.

"You sure?" Shepard frowned. "Lot of mechs out there. She might be dead by now."

Wilson tugged at Shepard's sleeve. "Come on Shepard. If he wants to go get her, let him. Let's take the shuttle and go."

Shepard was getting a crawling feeling at the base of his spine. "Massani, something's wrong here."

"Shepard, I ain't got time to argue," Zaeed reloaded his pistol. "I'm paid to protect that girl, and I..."

"What makes you think I need protecting," the same cultured Terra Nova accent hit Shepard's ears as he turned to see a red haired woman standing he door. Her body was flaring with a strong, pulsing biotic aura. "Stand aside Commander."

Antony wisely stepped to the left. Wilson was thrown against the wall with a sharp crack. He slumped to the floor. Zaeed looked at the corpse without an ounce of surprise.

"Bloody hell girl," he shrugged. "Was that necessary?"

"He betrayed us all," Jacqueline allowed her aura to fade. "Hacked the system and told the mechs to kill us."

"Had a feeling he was looking for an opportunity to gun me down," Shepard was intrigued by the woman. She was the same one who held his hand earlier. That kindness in her eyes was gone now, replaced by sophistication and coldness.

"So that's why you made him walk point," Jacqueline nodded, mildly impressed. "Some people are too willing to trust everybody they meet."

"I've walked into too many ambushes to give trust easily," Shepard suddenly tensed, then stretched out his arm and snatched the knife Wilson had thrown at him out of thin air.

Zaeed whipped back around and shot Wilson several times in the chest. The traitorous med-tech let out a death-rattle as he expired on the floor.

"Nice to see your reflexes are still sharp," Jack didn't even flinch. "Now, if you're done showing off, shall we go?"

"I'm not going anywhere with Cerberus operators." Shepard wasn't convinced about anything so far. This whole thing could be a Cerberus trap.

"I don't care," Jack smiled. "I have the only shuttle."

"I could kill you and take the shuttle," Shepard pointed out.

"Please don't go shooting anymore of my walls Commander," Jack turned back to the shuttle. "I'm leaving. You're welcome to come along if you want. Or you can stay here and die when the rest of the mechs come."

"Fine," Shepard followed her. "I've had enough of this station to last me a lifetime."

"Two lifetimes in your case mate," Zaeed muttered.

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**A/N: And in this chapter you have my three biggest beefs with the prologue. Shepard got dressed too fast (Come on Bioware, you could have afforded a five second cutscene), he was too good a fighter. (I would have accepted Shepard staggering around, and aim being affected). And Jacob shouldn't have just blurted out who they worked for. Shepard should have been the one who demanded answers.**


	8. Not The Same

Changing Fate

Chapter Eight: Not the Same

I don't own Bioware

**CERBERUS SHUTTLE**

**EN ROUTE TO MINUTEMAN STATION**

"So what happens now?" Shepard relaxed into the bucket seat.

"First things first," Jacqueline held up a pad. "You were woken up too early. I want to check your memory."

"Go right ahead," Antony grimaced. "Though if you expect me to remember the first girl I slept with...I didn't remember that before I died, let alone now."

"Charming," Jack shook her head. "Your mother was a navigation officer, your father was a marine. You spent your childhood on ships and space stations."

"Sure, they brought Dad home in a pine box when I was ten," Shepard shrugged. "Didn't matter much to me. Mom raised me, Dad spent too much time on deployment. About the one good thing he did for me was knocking up Mom."

"I know what that's like," Zaeed laughed. "My old man was always too drunk to rough me up. Local juvie officer was the only one..."

A look from Jack silenced him. She resumed her questioning. "You were on shoreleave on Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. You rallied your platoon and led a citizen's defence for six days in New Kabul. You remember that?"

"Sure, they pinned the Star of Terra on my chest for that one," Shepard's eyes unfocused. "Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what I did, but I wasn't the only one on the ground that day. There were other soldiers, other officers. I joined up with a recon LT, Kaidan Alenko. Kid made an impression on me, I requested his transfer to my unit when the fight was over."

"We were aware of that," Jack leaned closer. "Three tours of duty together. When you were assigned to the Normandy you asked Captain Anderson to bring Alenko on board as the Marine Detachment's CO. Playing favourites Commander?"

"Kaidan had his shit squared away," the Commander's tone was even. "He was better than me at thinking strategically. Logical choice."

"When I looked at your career, I was surprised at how much 'logic' was involved. I find that jarheads tend to think with their balls, not their brains. I even speculated that you weren't as heroic as they made you out to be, you just calculated all the risks better than most."

"My service record doesn't say everything about me," Shepard snapped. Like any Marine, he objected to his courage being called into question.

"I didn't just look at the CSV Commander. I did my research. I know everything there is to know about you."

"Really?"

"I know that you've got an ego that would sink a dreadnaught. You've been brought up three times on charges regarding sexual fraternisation with a subordinate. Every time, the judge dismissed the case. You could have screwed every starstruck Second Lieutenant between here and Arcturus and still be untouchable, all because of Elysium."

"So I have a little trouble keeping my hands to myself," he attempted to defend himself while Zaeed stifled a guffaw. "For the record, the third time I was the one pressing sexual assault charges."

Jack ignored his outburst. "One thing I wasn't able to ascertain Shepard. Did you sleep with Ashley Williams before you left her to die on Virmire?"

For a second Zaeed thought Shepard was going to punch the Operative in the face. The Commander's fists tightened and the scars on his face glowed bright red.

"Don't. You. Dare." Even Jack looked startled by the sudden change in his demeanour. "Ash was a damn fine soldier. More than that, she was a good person. You don't even deserve to say her name."

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"_What's the matter Skipper? Did I scare you off?" Her scent is completely unassuming. Sweat, gun oil, military soap. Much more appealing than Liara's perfume._

"_It's not that," I fumble for words. "But if you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always gotten."_

_She raises an eyebrow. "You feeling all right Cap?"_

_Why am I bumbling like a teenager? Where's the smooth words that I planned for? I blurt out the truth. "You mean a lot to me Chief. I don't want to screw this up."_

"_Maybe I wouldn't mind if you did scr..."_

"_Chief!" I warn her off but can't help smiling. She's so accustomed to fitting in with the guys. The gutter jokes and bawdy humour are second nature to her. But she's so feminine when she wants to be. And so strong. Not just another conquest. "I want to take this slow. Maybe after this next mission, we'll find some time for ourselves."_

_A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. "I'd like that Skipper. Virmire's gonna be nothing compared to what we've gone through already. Maybe we should fix bayonets, just to make it more interesting?"_

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"I take it she was the one that got away. Happens to all of us," Jack's snide backhand shook Shepard out of his memory. "Getting back to my original point. You're an egotist, but you stand by your ideals. You made no secret of your dislike for the Council, but you made the call for 5th Fleet to rescue the _Destiny Ascension_."

"I'm not the type of guy that can stomach killing ten thousand sailors," Antony snorted with self-derision. "Not without putting a bullet through my skull afterwards. I knew we weren't getting out of that fight without casualties. It was just a question of risk versus gain. We proved what humanity could accomplish, and we proved it with our blood. That's why I chose Captain Anderson for the human position. I wanted those bastards to look at him every day and remember they're alive because of raw, red, human blood."

Jack shut down her pad. "I think your memory is just fine. We're done here."

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**MARSIERE'S RESTAURANT**

**PRESIDIUM**

**CITADEL**

To put things in perspective, one had to consider the pay differential between the ranks. A rookie Alliance 2nd Lieutenant earned fifty two thousand credits a year. A Staff Lieutenant made eighty six thousand, plus hazard pay if you were serving on the frontlines. A Staff **Commander**? That was a cool hundred thousand credits, not including the benefits that came with being a SOCOM Team Leader.

That was why Kaidan Alenko, Alliance Special Forces and humanity's top candidate for the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch could afford to sit in the most expensive restaurant on the Presidium, sipping champagne shipped straight from Elysium, and staring into the eyes of the most wonderful woman he had ever known.

Doctor Liberty Katriuscki was a surgeon. The best one on the Citadel if you asked any of her patients. Kaidan had met her after she had operated on Service Chief Benjamin Selleck. The weapons specialist insisted that he had deliberately got himself shot so that his commander would have an excuse to invite the doctor out to Flux for a 'thank you' drink. First Lieutenant Janet Post had hypothesized that maybe Chief Selleck was just an idiot with a bullseye on his back.

Whatever the reason, Kaidan and Libby had been dating for eighteen months, an incredible, passionate eighteen months. Tall, elegant, athletic, with high cheek bones, pale skin, rare blue eyes and even rare blonde hair, she was a vision of loveliness. What made her even more attractive to Kaidan was the way she didn't fuss over her own appearance. She'd get back to their shared apartment, and swap out her scrubs for whatever clothes were at the top of the washing pile. He had once snapped a picture of her devouring a jelly doughnut, wearing thick reading glasses, dressed in a grey tracksuit and her hair up in curlers.

He had been forced to delete that photo when his mother sent Liberty a picture of him cosplaying as a Palaven Warlock from Galaxy of Fantasy when he was thirteen. She was infuriatingly good at one upping him. For every prank he pulled on her, she thought up a better one. Just another reason why he loved her.

"So," her voice brought him back to reality. "To what do I owe this extravagance?"

"Can't I take my girlfriend out for dinner without an ulterior motive?" Kaidan assumed his most innocent expression. Libby raised an eyebrow.

"You 'convinced' my boss to let me have an afternoon off, arranged the most expensive spa session that Kithoi Springs had to offer, have two dozen roses and this dress delivered to me personally, and then you say to meet you here. Now, it's not my birthday and it's not Christmas. So what is it?"

"Did I ever tell you that you would have made a great Internal Affairs investigator?"

"Did I ever tell you that you suck at trying to change the subject?" Her smile was one of victory. She had him cornered...again. "Come on, spill it Commander. I have ways of making you talk."

"Never!" Kaidan was grinning from ear to ear. "Tonight Doctor, you have to find the truth for yourself."

Libby gave a sigh of mock exasperation as she reached for her champagne glass. "Kaidan, you are without a doubt the most frustrating man I have ever dated."

Tilting the glass back, she allowed the bubbly liquid to flow down her throat...until something round, metallic and sharp bumped against the roof of her mouth. Coughing and spluttering, she retched violently and watched in bewilderment at the small silver and diamond ring that popped out of her mouth and rolled onto the white tablecloth.

Kaidan was shaking with uncontainable laughter. "Well, that was meant to be a lot more romantic. Should I order some more champagne? You're very thirsty this evening."

"You...you...you sappy, clichéd, sentimental, corny momma's boy who reads too many romantic novels!" Libby exploded as soon as she got her breath back. "This is...wonderful..."

"I figured if this marriage is ever going to work, I need to retain the element of surprise," he refilled her glass. "Well what do you say? Want to make me the happiest momma's boy alive?"

Libby pretended to go into deep thought. "Maybe. Only if you tell me how you managed to get that ring into my glass without me noticing."

"Quite simple," Kaidan lifted her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. "A biotic did it."

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**MINUTEMAN STATION**

**MAIN DOCKING BAY**

"Nice place, not sure about the décor," Shepard observed as he stepped out of the Kodiak. "I think it could use a bit of blue. The orange and silver gets a bit glaring after a while."

"This station is our headquarters for operations in the Traverse," Jack led the way to the elevator. "Interior decorating was not the focus when building it."

"Is she naturally this bitchy, or is it just me?" Antony questioned Zaeed. The mercenary nodded.

"All the time mate. She wasn't this bad back when that Taylor fella was duffin' her, so I think it's 'cos she ain't got much lately..."

There was a sharp smacking sound, and Zaeed clutched at his suddenly red cheek. Shepard looked at Jack's hand to see the last verges of blue draining away. Focused and selective use of biotics, very impressive. Speaking of which...

"Say, did you forget to put an amp in when you were putting my nodes back together? I tried using a warp several times, couldn't get my biotics to work."

"We didn't forget," Jack didn't turn her head. "But there's still so much we don't know about biotics. I tried everything, believe me. But we couldn't get your nodes to re-activate. You're no longer a biotic. I'm...sorry."

Antony blinked several times. He forced a cheerful smile onto his face. "Don't worry about it. I was never very good with the stuff. I'm better with a rifle."

_Liar_, Jack mentally accused him. _I'd sooner die than spend a life without that power._ "There is an upside though. We've enhanced your adrenal glands and optical co-ordination. You might have noticed your response time has been improved by forty percent."

"Thanks. But that won't do me much good if I can't hit my targets. I'm seeing everything at right angles."

"Your new eyes haven't been properly calibrated yet. Your muscles, fine motor skills and optics were supposed to be finetuned over the next three weeks."

"So calibrate them."

"After you talk to The Illusive Man."

Zaeed grinned to himself. _Clever girl_.

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**GUNSHIP **_**INFINITE WARD**_

**QUARIAN MIGRANT FLEET VESSEL**

**TWO HOURS AWAY FROM 'FREEDOM'S PROGRESS'**

The _Akula-_class gunship was the former property of a short-lived human mercenary organization, TreyChar Intergalactic. Their first major contract had been given to them by the volus mining and banking consortium 'Activist Sums'. The volus had their eyes on a particularly rich asteroid belt in hanar territory. Unfortunately for them, the Migrant Fleet had spent a considerable amount of credits securing the mining rights. The charitably minded hanar government had decided to accept the quarian's lower bid in place of the higher volus offer.

TreyChar had agreed to attack and drive off the quarian's mining ships, preferably destroying them. Admiral Han'Gerrel had gotten news of the attack a bare twelve hours before it began. He and Admiral Rael'Zorah had hatched a cunning plan. Drawing in the mercenary gunships, they had hit them in the middle of the asteroid belt with massed EMP mines.

Without their escorts, TreyChar's heavy ships had been helpless against the nimble quarian fighters. The humans had surrendered after thirty minutes of fighting. The quarians had kept the ships, mined the asteroids and moved on. It had been a simple message to the slavers, pirates and mercenaries looking for a profit: Don't. Fuck. With the Flotilla.

"Officer Zorah?" Senior Sergeant Prazza'Esvaad vas Neema was giving the briefing to the Search and Rescue team. While Tali was in nominal command, Prazza was the more experienced soldier. "Once we land, we'll take it low and slow. If it's slavers, we use the _Infinite Ward_ to take out their air support, then wear them down with hit and run tactics. If it's geth, we use the special gear that Tali brought along."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to go in fast and grab Veetor before anything else can happen?" Tali offered her opinion. Prazza gave the despairing shake of a professional trying to teach an amateur.

"If we had a better idea of what we're up against, then yes ma'am, I would advocate speed and aggression, but we just don't know. We have to win the reconnaissance fight before we can actually win the real battle."

"Yes, but what if..."

"M'am," Prazza's tone was sharper. "My tactics are sound ma'am. You don't need to question my every move."

Tali stood, her eyes radiating irritation. "Might I speak to you alone Sergeant?"

"Of course ma'am," Prazza sighted internally. Corporal Zaiach giggled as he followed Tali out of the armoury. The Admiral's daughter was famous for her short temper. Prazza had been fortunate enough to stay out of her way for most of the mission. No longer.

Tali turned as soon as they were out of earshot. "First things first Sergeant. Who is the ranking officer on this ship?"

"You ma'am." The words of his instructor lingered in Prazza's ears: _May Keelah protect and preserve you from junior officers who think they know everything!_

"And who has command of this mission?"

"You ma'am."

"So is it not logical to assume that you will defer to my rank when planning strategy?"

"No ma'am."

Tali stiffened. "Why not?"

"Because, with all due respect ma'am, you're not qualified to lead this mission. Not yet at least," Prazza tried to soften his tone. The young officer had potential, but being an Admiral's child didn't make her an instant combat commander.

"Admiral Gerrel gave me command of this mission..."

"Because he wanted you to learn ma'am. You've got a good team. One of the best, I can guarantee you that. I've done this shit for fifteen years. I can teach you what I've learned."

"I don't need to learn anything," Tali scowled. "I served with Commander Shepard, I was on his team at the end, when we took down Saren."

"And I respect that. But human tactics and quarian tactics are different for a reason ma'am. We can't charge in the same way. Recon, manoeuvrability and stealth are our tools. Play this one my way ma'am. If it doesn't work, then you can take charge."

Tali hesitated, and then uneasily acquiesced. "You have yourself a deal Sergeant."

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"Illusive Man," Shepard eyed the holographic representation in front of him. "Office of Naval Intelligence swore they got you at New Tripoli."

"They missed," The Illusive Man answered simply. "I decided to leave a few hours before the bomb went off. And considering you led the team that cracked the Rojas Cell on Terra Nova, I decided that a face to face meeting would be unwise. Especially for people like you and me, who know what we know."

"And that is?"

"That humanity is under attack. No one wants to admit it, but there it is. One man, one very specific man, might be all that stands between humanity and the greatest threat of our brief existence."

"The Reapers." It was the only answer.

"Correct, human colonies have been disappearing all along the Traverse. They go silent, and by the time reinforcements arrive, there's not a soul to be found. To date, we've lost over half a million colonists. That number is rising every week.

Antony couldn't believe his ears. "The Alliance wouldn't let this..."

"The Alliance has good intentions, but it doesn't have enough ships or men to protect every colony out there," The Illusive Man shook his head. "Humanity currently has the strongest naval presence in Council Space. The old Citadel Fleet is gone, we're a stopgap measure until they can rebuild. The Joint Chiefs of Staff are trying their best of course, but their held back by politicians. Frigate patrols that try to defend the colonies are wiped out."

"By who?"

"We're not sure."

Antony couldn't believe his ears. "Let me get this straight. With all the resources, all the ships and all the informants of the combined intelligence agencies in Citadel space, no one has any idea who's behind this. I call bullshit."

"I'd be disappointed if you believed me out of hand," The Illusive Man took a sip of his bourbon. "One of our colonies just went dark, Freedom's Progress. Ask Jacqueline to fix up your eyes, and then go see for yourself. That's all I ask. If you're not satisfied, then I'll arrange for your transport back to the Alliance."

"Two men and one woman? Why not send a full company?"

"With Operative Harper?" The Illusive Man shook his head. "They'd just get in the way."

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**A/N: Antony B. Shepard. He's a guy who has many qualities, most of them bad. Intellectually lazy, he cruised through OCS without really trying. If he hadn't been a biotic, he probably wouldn't have got a commission. He wanted an early military career to back up his eventually entry into politics. Elysium was the first time he really tried to be a good soldier, and found out he was good at it. He rediscovered his motivation and eventually became one of the best N7's in the Alliance.**

**He's a wannabe Renegade, who ends up copping into Paragon choices because of his conscience. He couldn't bring himself to execute Shiala on Feros or destroy the Rachni Queen on Noveria. He tried to bury his guilt over leaving Ashley to die by sleeping with Liara, but ended up feeling more guilty for using her. Shepard's moral conscience is a constant factor, though he keeps trying to ignore it.**

**Shepard is drop dead loyal to the Alliance. He assaulted Major Kyle's biotic compound and dragged him out in handcuffs. He silenced Lord Darius and destroyed all the evidence that he had ever been working for Hackett. Crossing the line of the law is second nature to him. That's why Kaidan was always assigned to work with him, to make sure he didn't go too far.**


	9. Of Fools and Fighters

Changing Fate

Chapter Nine: Of Fools and Fighters

I don't own Bioware.

**CENTRAL SECURITY AREA**

**FREEDOM'S PROGRESS**

**1635 HOURS, 2185**

'_I wonder what they'll say about me? The instructors I mean. What will they tell the fresh faced recruits during tactics class, when they bring up my failure?'_

"Zaeed! Tali! Grenades on my mark!"

'_Will they say I acted with the best of intentions? Will they think I looked at my options and made the best of a bad lot?'_

"Get back in cover! Operative Harper, bring this bastard down!"

'_Or will they call me an idiot? Blinded by hate for my enemy and distrust for my superior officer.'_

"Shit, Commander! It's gonna blow!"

'_I made my decision. Regardless of whether that really was Commander Shepard, he was still working for Cerberus. My wife was on the Ideena when those Cerberus bosh'tets attacked. She was just meant to be going over some new weapons with the ship's Master-at-Arms. She was gunned down along with the rest of those Marines. I couldn't let that happen again. Not on my watch.'_

"Shepard, I'll take care of the wounded. You grab Veetor!"

'_I broke my own rule. I went in fast. I thought we could grab that poor fool Veetor and go. I intended to apologise to Miss Zorah afterwards. Instead I ran right into that monster. I got most of my squad killed.'_

"Hold on a second Tali."

'_Shepard must have taken care of that big bastard. Too late for me though. Most of my internal organs are completely shot to pieces. My suit is the only thing keeping me alive. I've got maybe thirty seconds left. I have no regrets. My name is Sergeant Prazza'Esvaad vas Neema. I did my duty for the Fleet. Urah.'_

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Shepard knelt by the grey armoured quarian. "Who was he?"

"Prazza, my Senior Sergeant," Tali administered medi-gel to one of the other squad members. "My second in command. He was a good soldier, but he didn't trust me. I guess he couldn't trust you either. He was an idiot."

"No," Antony shook his head. "He was just doing his job Tali. Why did you choose to trust me?"

"Because you knew something. That data on the geth that you let me read. That was off the record, you didn't make any copies. Cerberus couldn't have known that. They couldn't have given that information to an impostor. It had to be you."

"And if I hadn't let you read it?"

Tali paused. "Then I might have reacted the same way Prazza did," her admittance was reluctant. "Shepard...are you real?"

"Not entirely sure yet," Antony frowned. "I guess we'll find out. Take care of your men. I'll get Veetor."

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***BOOM***

The sound of the pistol shot echoed around the surveillance centre. The young quarian at the desk almost jumped out of his suit. The lower panel on the viewscreen shattered, sending shards of glass all over the floor.

"Humans? Why didn't the monster take you?" Veetor shook like a leaf. His suit was pumping anti-biotics into his system. They were saving his life, but clouding his mind. Jack could see that from a mile away. She debated hacking into his suit and activating the automatic sedatives in his system.

"We only just got here Veetor," Antony took a step forward. "Who are the monsters?"

"Monsters, flying everywhere," his head jerked from left to right. "Taking everyone. People try to fight, but they freeze. I take a gun and try to shoot but I can't. I freeze, but I'm not stung. So afraid. No. Can't fight. Have to run. Have to run! HAVE TO..."

"VEETOR!" Shepard pinned the quarian against the desk. His shout shocked the quarian into silence. Jack noted for the first time just how tired Shepard looked. "I have had a long fucking day! Alright? I just want to go somewhere nice, preferably a beach, with a lot of asari thinking up ways they can be nice to me. I'm sure you want something similar. Just tell me who the monsters were, and we can both get what we want. Now!"

Veetor nodded, now more terrified of the human in front of him than anything else. "You didn't see. But I saw. I saw everything."

He activated his omni-tool. The screen reactivated, showing pictures from around the area. They were time-stamped five hours earlier. Dark skinned bipedal, insect like creatures were pushing pods, some full, some empty. Humans stood everywhere, frozen like statues.

"What the hell," Jacqueline leaned closer. "That's a..."

"Collector," Shepard interrupted her. "Yeah. I've seen them before."

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**CALESTON**

**BLUE SUNS COMPOUND**

**2181**

_This thing was huge. Shepard was not a short man. He was respectably tall at six feet and three inches. But the four eyed drone stood a full head and shoulders above him. Yellow eyes glared at him. Antony was suddenly glad he had chosen to visit the latrine beforehand._

"_**WHERE IS COMMANDER CONNERTON?"**_

_Where was its mouth? The voice just rumbled out. It was deep, bellowing, and very, very scary._

"_Commander Connerton is just fine, but he won't be conducting this meeting," the evenness of his voice surprised him. He would prefer to be negotiating over the barrel of a sniper rifle. "I'm Staff Lieutenant Shepard, Systems Alliance Marines."_

"_**YOUR TITLE IS IRRELEVANT. COMMANDER CONNERTON AND THE BLUE SUNS PROMISED US THIRTY HUMANS. WE CAME HERE TO COLLECT THOSE HUMANS."**_

"_So I heard," Shepard frowned. "Look, I'm afraid the Alliance really doesn't approve of slaving. Those thirty humans Connerton agreed to give you? They're leaving with me."_

"_**UNDERSTANDABLE. HUMAN MORALITY IS ETHICALLY SOUND FROM YOUR PERSPECTIVE BUT HOLDS NO MEANING FOR US. WE WILL NOT BE LEAVING WITHOUT OUR PROPERTY. IF YOU WILL NOT SURRENDER IT, THEN WE WILL TAKE IT BY FORCE."**_

"_Speaking of force," Shepard raised his right hand. From around the compound, twenty Alliance soldiers appeared. Some leaned out of windows, some were on the roofs of the pre-fabs. "Mr. Alenko?"_

"_Got kill shots on all of them sir!" Kaidan's rifle was zeroed on the head of the Collector leader. "Just say the word!"_

_The Collector cocked its head at Shepard._

"_**YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US ALL BY NOW. WHY DO YOU HOLD?"**_

"_Because I was thinking we could make a deal," Antony gestured toward the slave pens. "Same on that Connerton made with you. Humans for technology. I want to make that same deal. I can give you eight humans, fourteen batarians and five turians."_

"_**WE DO NOT NEED BATARIANS OR TURIANS."**_

"_Consider them an added bonus."_

"_**UNACCEPTABLE. WE WANT HUMANS."**_

"_Check your cards friend. I'm the one holding the aces."_

_For a full sixty seconds, the Collector stared around at the grim faced operatives. It's mind seemed to be turning over the alternatives._

"_**WE WILL GIVE YOU HALF OF WHAT WE PROMISED CONNERTON."**_

"_Pleasure doing business with you. Alenko, bring out this gentleman's cargo."_

"_Aye...sir," the young biotic seemed uneasy. The gates to the slave pens were flung open, the N7's shepherded the captured Blue Suns toward the Collector dropship._

"_Shepard!" Connerton didn't look very impressive without his bulky combat armour. He had left the Alliance for the promise of greater profit in the private sector. The young man had been given command of a Blue Suns slaving ring. He had remained in command of it till Shepard's unit had landed. "We can make a deal. I can make you rich!"_

"_I have simple tastes Connerton, don't need much money" Shepard shoved him at the Collector's feet. "Don't worry. You're fulfilling a very important role for humanity. Just like you swore to do in your Oath of Service. Think about that when they deal with you."_

_It took eight minutes for the Collectors to load their 'cargo'. Some of the mercenaries remained defiant, snarling threats and abuse at their captors. Most of them broke down, sobbing and pleading for mercy. The Marines ignored them. The only one who seemed at all affected was Alenko._

"_You alright Kaidan?" Shepard finally turned away as the Collector dropship blasted off toward the mothership hovering in the sky. It looked more like a hornet's nest carved into an asteroid than a cruiser, Admiral Hackett would have given anything to get his hands on that ship. Maybe next time._

"_I'm fine Tony," Kaidan finally collapsed his rifle. "Just a bit queasy about trading live prisoners for some tech. Makes me feel like a slaver."_

"_Mercs and pirates kid, no one's gonna miss 'em."_

"_I know that, but we had no orders regarding the Collectors. We could have cut and run hours ago."_

"_True, but I __**wanted**__ this tech," Antony flipped open the first case. "Six cases of particle beam rifles. The intel weenies are going to have a field day with this gear."_

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"Looks like they've gotten sick of dealing with slavers. They're going after whole colonies," Shepard felt a burning sensation at the base of his skull. The same one he always got when something seriously ticked him off. "Their mistake."

"No wonder we ain't found anything," Zaeed spat. "Bastards have got gear decades ahead of our shit."

"We need to get this recording back to The Illusive Man," Jack had been momentarily thrown off balance. She had felt the same flash of anger as her teammates. Seeing humans packed up like freight...adults and children alike. Not a single survivor. It made her almost insanely furious. Now she was back in control. "Sergeant Massani, sedate the quarian. We'll take him back to Minuteman for further interrogation."

"What?" Tali entered the safehouse behind them. "Veetor needs a clean room and a doctor, not torture!"

"Gonna have to go with the bucket head on this one girl," Zaeed critically appraised the mumbling teenager. "He's not in too great a shape for a long Q and A."

"Five minutes with me and he'll be begging to talk," Jack took a step toward Veetor. Tali hissed, moving her hand toward her holstered pistol.

"You're not taking him anywhere, Cerberus _krivka_!"

Zaeed winced. He knew what that word meant. Roughly translated, it was the equivalent of suggesting that Jack, her mother, grandmother and most of her female relatives earnt their living as ladies of the night. Jack's laugh was laden with contempt.

"You want to try it on with me missy? I can kill you eighty seven different ways before you even unseal the mag-clasp." Her own pistol was out and cocked but not yet pointed at Tali.

"Tali, Harper, cut it out," Shepard turned away from Veetor. "If I thought he knew anything else, I'd question him myself. He doesn't, so I don't need to. Take him back to the Fleet Tali, make sure he stays there."

"Shepard, he might have seen something he can't remember right now," Jack didn't back down. "A truth serum and a relaxed environment might jog his memory."

"He's not going to get a relaxed environment with Cerberus, I know that much," Antony seemed much more cheerful now. "Most people I know object to being locked in with Rachni. Ask Admiral Kahoku if you don't believe me."

"That some Cerberus cells chose to cross the line doesn't change what I said."

Shepard's eyes flashed. "I won't have my orders questioned by a terrorist."

"We both use terror for our own ends Shepard," she stood nose to nose with him. "Some of us are just better at justifying it. I. Want. A fucking. Explanation."

Zaeed would have laid even money that if Jack had been a man, Shepard would have broken her jaw. The fact that he didn't was a testament to the power of the 'officer and gentleman' ethos over the man's ego. Instead of punching her out, he tossed her a small OSD.

"What's this?"

"His omni-tool core," Shepard replied brusquely as he strode toward the door. "Been active the whole time. It'll tell us anything he missed a lot faster than he could. I'm going to help Tali load her wounded. Meet me back at the shuttle."

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"You know you could come with us," Tali suggested hopefully. "Drop you off with the Alliance. Might take some time to prove that you're alive, but it's better than trusting Cerberus."

"It's tempting," Shepard stared at the sky. Snow was now falling thick and fast. "But right now I feel like Alice at the edge of the rabbit hole. I want to know just how deep this goes. Plain curiosity if you like. Besides, I know how to handle them. Cerberus used to work for the Alliance remember?"

"That relationship ended with a lot of blood," Tali hesitated. "Shepard, you and I never saw eye to eye on a lot of things. You never liked the way my people handled the geth, back when it all started. But if the Collectors are targeting humans, and you need my help to stop them. Well you can count on me when the time comes Shepard. I pay my debts, and I owe you a big one."

Shepard extended his hand. "Ilos?"

She nodded. "Ilos."

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**SSV AIN JALUT**

**NORMANDY CLASS FRIGATE**

**MAIN CARGO HOLD**

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, meatheads and leathernecks of all ages," Kaidan walked in front of his strike team. "We've been training for two months solid in absolute secrecy. I know a lot of you are frustrated with the isolation. Today, your wait is at an end. Today, I can tell you about our mission."

In front of him, a three dimensional map appeared. "This is Malhak. Batarian colony world. Proclaimed as a symbol of successful Hegemony colonisation. Also home to one of the largest eezo mines in Hegemony space. The Hegemony claims that it is a colony completely free of indentured servitude. Citadel inspectors have confirmed this."

"Bullshit!" A Service Chief at the back of the crowd called out. It was echoed among the twenty marines. They were elite members of the N7 Advanced Reconnaissance Team Eight, the best close quarters fighters in the Alliance. Kaidan's returning smile was without humour.

"Bullshit indeed. We've received intel that twenty Alliance POW's are being held here, on the far north continent. We're going to get them. This won't be a cake run. ONI tells us that there's at least a company of guards at the camp they're being held at. I won't blame anyone who wants to sit this one out..."

He had indirectly questioned their courage. Their response was immediate. Their boots snapped together as they came to attention.

"**RECON!"**

Yep, he definitely had the right men for the job.

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**MINUTEMAN STATION**

**COMMUNICATIONS ROOM**

"The quarians forwarded us the results of Veetor's debriefing. Nothing we didn't already know, but it's an unexpected olive branch considering our past," The Illusive Man flicked on his lighter. There were a few words engraved on the side. _From Joaquim Williams to Jack Harper. We held the line._"I wouldn't recommend trying to bully Operative Harper. She reacts better to reason than to threats."

"If she can't follow my orders she's no use to me," Shepard clasped his hands behind his back. "If she questions me in the middle of a combat zone, then I might have to kill her myself."

"It would be a shame if you did that," The Illusive Man's voice was suddenly full of restrained venom. "I would be forced to kill you. Unpleasantly."

Shepard raised an eyebrow.

"I would take a dim view of anyone who killed, or tried to kill, my daughter," The Illusive Man answered Shepard's unspoken question.

"I think I see the family resemblance."

"We're not here to debate her willingness to follow orders," The Illusive Man brought up one of the security images from Freedom's Progress. "The Collectors are attacking human colonies, taking human prisoners. This stinks of the Reapers to me."

"I concur," Shepard paced around inside the scanner. "The Reaper's have to be using the Collectors as their proxies, just like they did with Saren and the geth."

"You sound like you already have a plan," The Illusive Man narrowed his eyes. Shepard shrugged.

"It's the same one you have. I'll take the fight to them; hit them on their home ground."

"Always advancing," the ghost of a smile appeared at the older man's lips. "But you'll need an army to fight a war Commander."

"I had a damn good team when I took down Saren."

"And I tried to get them back for you," The Illusive Man waved his hand, bringing up a list. "Tali'Zorah you met on Freedom's Progress. She's on her own mission, the Fleet Admirals are sending her right into geth space. Urdnot Wrex returned to Tuchanka. Reports say he planned and executed a complete takeover of Clan Urdnot. Liara T'Soni is working as an information broker on Ilium, possibly connected with the Shadow Broker. Garrus Vakarian has completely disappeared."

"I'll get in touch with Hackett. Maybe I can convince him to give me Alenko and some N7's from Team Eight."

"What will you tell Hackett? That you came back from the dead? Resurrected by a human extremist group?"

"I can try at least, same with the Council."

"If you think it'll do any good, go right ahead," The Illusive Man removed a silver flask from his jacket pocket. He poured a small measure into the glass on his armrest. "I've assembled a list of potential recruits for your squad. You might want to consider some of these names."

"I'll consider it, but only if I can't get any professionals," Shepard examined the message just sent to his omni-tool. Half a dozen names, none of them familiar. "If you could provide me with transport to the Citadel I'll be on my way."

"I have a courier ship leaving in ten minutes, it will reach the Citadel in two days."

"Why so long?"

"It has to make a side trip first. I need Jacqueline to pick up an inmate from the prison ship Purgatory," The Illusive Man was all business again. "A very, very powerful biotic known as 'The Ghost'. The Ghost was to have been a member of your squad...but since you want to get 'professionals', you won't need him."

Antony scowled. "So why waste time retrieving him at all?"

"The Ghost is Cerberus property, the result of one of our more...controversial projects. We can at least use him for study. The biotic abilities we gave him can measurably improve our understanding of dark energy control. I doubt Ghost will last long, the research methods are...primitive."

Shepard's scars flared bright red again. "So I either recruit this poor bastard or he gets diced up in a Cerberus lab?"

"I know, such a waste of a skilled operator. Still, sacrifices have to be made for the advancement of humanity."

"This is blackmail."

"Is it?"

"Go fuck yourself. You brought me back, so thanks for that. But I don't need your help. I serve the Alliance, always have. I'll get your biotic, but then you and I part ways. I'll get this fight finished my way." Shepard turned and stormed out of the holographic imager.

The Illusive Man finished his drink, stubbed out his cigarette. A few minutes later, Jack appeared on the pad in front of him.

"Hello Father." There were inflections of affection in her business like voice. There was also a note of disapproval. "You've been smoking again."

"Jackie, I do not need a lecture about my recreational habits," he frowned. "Where's the Commander at the moment?"

"Zaeed took him to the Mess Hall. I assume you convinced him to aid us in retrieving Subject Zero?"

He nodded. "I'm uploading Kuril's payment now. I'm surprised he didn't ask for more. Two million credits is a tenth of Zero's real value."

"Too good to be true," Jack flicked a stray strand of hair back into place. "I'll keep my eyes open for a trap. What about afterwards? Shepard wants to go running back to the Council and the Alliance."

"He'll be back," The Illusive Man snorted. "The Council won't help him. If Admiral Hackett couldn't convince those idiots, Shepard doesn't have a chance. He'll have no choice but to work with us, however unwillingly. What's the status of the SR-2?"

"We've finished installing EDI, her blue box has been secured. Mr. Donnelly has reported the engine core is almost ready for the shakedown run. Four days, then she can be launched. Two weeks cruising will see all the bugs worked out of her engines."

"Four days," The Illusive Man repeated. "I'll wager you a dinner at Skyloft that Shepard will be back in four days, begging for our help."

"I'd feel safer with a week," Jack paused. "I hope you know what you're doing. Take care of yourself Father."

"You too Jackie," he smiled as her image faded. His eyes were drawn to the picture taped to his armrest. He was steadying her as she wobbled around the frozen lake, perched atop her brand new skates. She must have fallen over fifty times that day. Eventually she had triumphed, finding her balance point and gaining speed and confidence. They had returned to the penthouse, cold and wet, but she had been in the best of spirits.

Her determination had always inspired him. They were a great team. They would _always_ be a great team.

=Sir, Operative Taylor is on the line from Bekenstein= his secretary opened the intercom. =He says he's found it=

=Put him through= He turned back toward the imager. The Lazarus Cell wasn't the only project in Cerberus. Others, like Jacob Taylor, were serving smaller, but equally useful roles for him.

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**A/N: Next chapter, we meet up with Subject Zero and journey to the Citadel.**

**I hope I lived up to your expectations of this AU. **

**I wonder what Jacob Taylor could be doing on Bekenstein?**


	10. Prisoners of Destiny

Changing Fate

Chapter Ten: Prisoners of Destiny

I don't own Bioware

**ALLIANCE EMBASSY**

**PRESIDIUM, CITADEL**

**TWO DAYS AFTER THE DEFEAT OF SOVEREIGN**

_The krogan statue had been knocked down._

_The bridge over the lake had been broken in half._

_Crashed aircars, remnants of Alliance cruisers, and bodies. Bodies were everywhere. Human, salarian, asari, and any other species you cared to name. They had found Captain Lipson, slumped over the weapons console of the __**Tokyo**__. Several turian C-Sec officers had formed an honour guard to remove him from the wreckage of his cruiser._

_An asari screaming as the searchers finally located her daughter's body. A turian squinting with pain as a human slathered medi-gel over his mangled legs. Sirens wailed as emergency services struggled to put out the fires. Someone swore they had seen Admiral Hackett leading a search party into the unstable ruins of Flux. Whether it was rescuing trapped civilians or guarding against looters, no one was idle._

_Except for Shepard._

"_Details are still sketchy, but it is believed that Commander Shepard was able to defeat rogue Spectre Saren Arterius and unseal the Citadel Relay, allowing Fifth Fleet under Admiral Hackett to come to the rescue of the Destiny Ascension and the Council," an asari news reader's voice crackled across the makeshift radio link. "We here at Citadel News would like to take a moment to thank the Alliance crewmen that did not survive the fighting. Crews of the Warsaw, Tokyo..."_

_Reaching forward, Antony flicked the comms unit off. He didn't need to hear the names of the cruisers that Sovereign had blown to pieces. They were already engraved into his mind. They would be there forever. He sculled the rest of his glass, feeling the alcohol burn his throat on the way down. Ambassador Udina certainly had good taste in vodka. Certainly no one would begrudge him a quick drink. Would they? He had saved the Council, defeated Saren in close quarters combat, and spent the past two days pulling bodies, both live and dead, from the ruins. He just wanted five minutes, that was all. Five minutes to reflect, to take it all in._

"_Enjoying a victory drink sir?" Kaidan stumbled in the embassy door. Apparently he had had the same idea as Shepard. From seven metres away, Shepard could smell the cheap whiskey on his friend's breath._

"_You're not supposed to drink, remember?" Shepard wearily indicated the seat next to him. "Sparks off your migraines? Makes your biotics unstable? That's what Doctor Chakwas..."_

"_To hell with Doctor Chakwas," Kaidan was over-pronouncing his words, making sure that nothing he was saying could be missed. "To hell with migraines, biotics and L2's. And to hell with you."_

_Shepard cocked an eyebrow. Three things were certain in life. Death, taxes and Kaidan Alenko being friendly when he was drunk. The last one had just been disproven. "Did I do something wrong?"_

"_Oh no sir, absolutely not sir," Kaidan raised his voice pitch, mimicking Ensign Karta, the rookie LADAR operator on the Normandy. "As a matter of fact sir, I think you did everything just perfect. You defeated the forces of evil, restored justice to the galaxy and got to bang the blue alien princess. Hell, just add a sixty piece orchestra playing sweeping music and you've got a fucking blockbuster movie sir. 'The Epic Adventure of the Bold Commander Shepard.'"_

"_Sounds good," Shepard decided to humour him. "But what about Commander Shepard's sidekick? The Tenacious Kaidan Alenko?"_

_Kaidan dismissively waved his hand. "I was just getting to him. Lieutenant Alenko, the dependable officer who spent his whole career cleaning up after our hero. The 'stable biotic who had his shit squared away', that's what they'll say. His 'natural inclination to err on the side of caution counterbalanced perfectly with Shepard's hot-headedness.' Ripped straight off Anderson's transfer request for me."_

"_I think the critics might find that interpretation a bit bland," Antony could hear the sound of an inevitable train wreck pounding in his head. "They'd need to really capture who Kaidan Alenko was. What he did. The lives he saved."_

"_Maybe I'll even get my own spin-off extranet-series," Kaidan mused. "The Adventures of a Good Kid: The story of Shepard's best buddy, who planned the Commander's strategy, filled out the Commander's paperwork, and covered up the Commander's war crimes. There'll be a special sub-plot throughout the first season. The Lieutenant loves the ship's Gunnery Chief, but once he realises the Commander also has his eye on her, he backs off. A nice boring solution to the problem. And then of course, the Chief dies heroically, depriving both men of her. But Commander Shepard doesn't stay lonely for long. No, he goes and fucks the sweet young thing that hero worships him."_

"_You were in love with Ashley?" Shepard's heart sunk to his boots. Now it made sense. Kaidan laughing while he suggested Shepard focus his affections on Liara. The all too frequent trips the biotic had made down to Deck Three. "You never told her?"_

"_Tell her what? That both her superior officers are after her? I'm sure that would have really made her feel like an appreciated member of the crew." Kaidan's sarcasm made Antony flinch. "To know that we're staring at her ass whenever we're in the field would have been such a great confidence builder. So I decided to back off. Be the gentleman everyone always expects me to be. Of course, I didn't know you were going to kill her."_

"_Lieutenant..."_

"_That woman was better than you," Kaidan lurched over Shepard. "She was honest, and idealistic. She didn't sign up for the free college education or to set up a career in politics. She was a patriot. And you left her to die. Not only that, you went and spat on her grave."_

"_I don't have to listen to this," Shepard tried to stand up. Kaidan shoved him back into the seat._

"_Tell me, did you go screw Liara in Med-Bay right after you left Ashley and Kirrahe's team to die, or did you wait a whole twenty four hours out of respect for the dead?"_

"_Stand down Lieutenant," Shepard pushed his way back up. He and Kaidan were eye to eye. "Or I'll have you tossed in the brig."_

"_You know what? I'm done taking orders from you." Kaidan's eyes were blazing with white hot fury. "I'm done with being your 'conscience'. I'm not playing second fiddle anymore sir."_

"_I think if Anderson thought you were ready for your own team, he would have given it to you before now," Shepard sneered. Kaidan straightened up._

"_Oh he's offered me Sabre Unit with Team Eight several times now." He snapped back. "Promotion to Lieutenant Commander, taking over your old job when you got selected for Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. I turned him down. I thought that sticking with you would be more meaningful."_

"_Well then why don't you take Sabre Unit and stick it up your ass?" Antony queried with exaggerated politeness. "That way you'll learn that all your idealism and principles don't count for shit without force and strength. And once you get your whole team killed, you can run back to your mother and get a nice big hug for doing your very best."_

"_I'll do that," Kaidan's muscles tensed. "But not before I do something I've wanted to do for a very long time."_

"_And what would that be?"_

_Kaidan punched him in the face._

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**CERBERUS TRANSPORT SLOOP**

_**ACHILLES' FURY**_

**HOURGLASS NEBULAE**

**2185**

Shepard snapped upward, grabbing Jack in a headlock. "What the hell are you doing?" He hissed furiously. He saw something in her hand. "What is that?"

"Dermal regenerator," Jack pried his arm out from around her throat. "I was trying to see if I could fix up your scars."

Antony was excruciatingly aware of his newfound weakness. Cerberus had crammed a lot of cybernetics into his body, but his 'enhanced' muscles had yet to fully develop. He had to take care of that, and soon. "Can you?"

"I'm afraid not," Jack frowned. "If I had four kilograms of synthetic skin and a vat of medi-gel I could fix you up like new, but it wouldn't last. Your scars need to heal naturally."

She didn't apologise for his face like she had for his dormant biotics. He couldn't actually blame her for the scars. Alive, kicking and ugly was a heck of a lot better than dead and handsome.

"How do I convince my body to obey me Master?" Shepard raised his voice pitch to imitate a frightened minion from a kid's cartoon. The weak joke earned him a withering look.

"Avoiding stressful situations, yoga, meditation. Maybe even singing 'Kumbya'," Jack tossed him the regenerator. "Endorphins released by mildly strenuous exercise would probably help. So would sexual release."

"You offering?" Antony paused for a second, not bothering to conceal his 'ogling'. Damn, but she had a body. That jumpsuit was tight in all the right places, and the way her hair framed her face.

Jack's smile took on a decidedly icy property. "I'm afraid you're not my type Commander."

"Oh come on," Shepard swaggered closer. "Good for me: I get my face back and test if my equipment is still in working order. Good for you: Maybe you'd stop being such an uptight bitch if you got laid. Massani mentioned it's been a while for you."

Jack unconsciously backed away. Not because she was intimidated by him, she just didn't want to bump her elbow on the bunk bed when she swung to break his jaw. "Suitable partners are hard to find."

"What about that 'Taylor' guy?" Shepard's smile was playful. He knew there was no way in hell he was getting lucky any time soon. But the desire to see just how far he could push his luck was too strong. "What did he have that I don't?"

"Where do I begin?" Jack looked around the room. "He was thoughtful, considerate, courteous, respectful, sensitive, and didn't mind hiding in the closet whenever The Illusive Man made a surprise inspection. A gentleman of the old school."

"Well, I may not have any of those qualities," Antony extended a hand toward her midsection. "But since when did feelings get in the way of a really good..."

"Shepard," Her hand held his in a vicelike grip. "One thing that I take seriously in my life is problems. I like dealing with these problems calmly, efficiently, and with a minimum of fuss. But right now, there are two very small problems that are about to be dealt with via a biotic warp."

"Maybe it'd be worth the risk?"

Jack smirked. "Beyond your wildest fantasies Commander, but not today. Your armour's in the locker. You want a shotgun or a rifle for this little expedition?"

"I thought this was just a pickup?" Shepard addressed his question to her back.

"Oh Commander," Jack looked over her shoulder, a mocking pout decorating her face. "I just _know_ you're not that naive."

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**CRYO UNIT 12**

**MAXIMUM SECURITY WING**

**PRISON SHIP PURGATORY**

"_Niket!" She stares up at the sandy haired young man, widening her eyes. "I want to go riding!"_

_His smile is infuriating. He knows her too well to be talked out of this. "Not a chance Miri. You've got two dozen French verbs to go, plus your algebra problems. After you've done that, then we can hit the stables."_

"_Can we go swimming down at the river?" Her tone is pleading._

"_Have you been practicing in the pool?"_

"_Of course I have!" He should have known that. She was __**always**__ practicing._

"_That's my girl." A hot flush of pride streaks through her. She couldn't care less about Father's approval. But when Niket praises her...it's the best feeling in the world._

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"We're bringing her out by just a few notches," the tech explained to Warden Kuril. "She's been in there for over a year now. I wanted to make sure her higher brain functions are still working. Neural degradation is rare in cryogenic suspension, but it can happen."

"Well?" Kuril paced the control unit impatiently. "Is she alright?"

"She's dreaming at the moment," the tech nodded. "Everything looks healthy. I'd like to keep her like this for a few hours, just to give her brain a chance to exercise. Have you read my recommendation that we extract her for a few hours to remove her amp?"

"It'd cost me five thousand credits to pay for a surgeon to come out here and take out her L4." Kuril snorted. "There's no room in the budget for it."

"We've received numerous offers for her," Lieutenant Joshua Peck entered the compartment. "Cerberus would have payed millions to get their hands on 'The Ghost'."

"The Ghost is my retirement package Mr. Peck. Always has been," Kuril retorted, then halted. "Although if this deal with Shepard goes through, I might not need Ghost to buy that beach house on Bekenstein. I might even take her with me."

"Asari mind-meld therapy sir?" Peck thought about his perfectly executed capture of Ghost on Serrice. Ghost was quite possibly the most attractive prisoner he had ever taken. That face, the body...all of it perfect. "Didn't pick you for a human fetishist."

"That pretty little bank robber over in Minimum Security Wing changed my mind," Kuril joined his subordinate in a laugh. There were a lot of perks to this job. Who said being the jailer had to be a boring job? "You'd better get to the docking area. That Cerberus vessel will be arriving soon. Make sure they surrender their weapons. This doesn't need to be difficult."

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The _Achilles' Fury_ didn't have much of an armoury. A rack of assault rifles, a crate of pistols, a few shotguns and some storage containers filled with thermal clips. Shepard couldn't complain about the quality of the equipment though. An M-8 Avenger seemed to be the best choice. It's range was pathetic compared to his old HMWA SPECTRE, but it still preferable to a shotgun. Without his biotics, he wouldn't be able to pull his targets closer. He'd have to completely alter his fighting style.

Blue Suns were known for being quite technical in their fighting...at least that had been the case two years ago. Advanced shield generators, heavy mechs, and upmarket weapons and armour. Disruptor ammo seemed the best choice. A disruptor round would go straight through a shield and rip apart the person behind it. Not very effective against a biotic barrier, but the Suns didn't have many of those.

An M-3 Predator, two bandoliers of thermal clips, and three rounds for the concussion grenade launcher. Antony decided to leave the Cerberus M-100 behind. It would just be an unneeded burden in a close quarters fight.

Zaeed, Jacqueline and a pair of Cerberus commanodes were also choosing their weapons. The Operative loaded a Katana and clipped it across her back, then slipped an M-4 Shruiken into her hip holster. Her whole demeanour had changed. Any mock flirtation or false humour had gone out of her face. Only the slight shaking of her hands betrayed any pre-mission jitters.

On the other hand, Massani just looked bored. He was lovingly cleaning an old rifle, wiping down the iron sights of his weapon.

"Nice weapon," Shepard gestured toward the rifle. Zaeed grunted.

"Don't kid yourself mate, she's a museum piece. M-96 Mattock, one of the last ones I reckon. Managed to find some spare parts back in '81. She's slow loading, slow firing and kicks back like a cantankerous varren bitch."

"Why do you keep her?"

"Because," Zaeed grinned from ear to ear. "She'll chew threw a krogan's armour and kill that fucker in ten shots. I call her Samantha."

"Got any more like her?" Antony gazed at his own rifle with distaste.

"Got one of the early model Avengers," Zaeed looked sorrowful. "But Jessie packed up on me years ago. I never loved a woman like I loved that shitty old rifle."

"And that should tell you all you need to know about his sex life," Jack strapped a six slot bandolier to her right forearm. It would allow her to easily retrieve and load extra thermal clips once her two weapons exhausted their internal supply. "Shall we go?"

Corporal Nino and Private Jun both nodded, readying their own rifles. Shepard held up his hand.

"The Illusive Man put me in charge of this mission, Miss Harper. Until you and I part ways on the Citadel, you're under my command."

"My mistake," Jack coolly backed off. "By all means, lead the way."

Antony felt slightly foolish as he walked past her. He had expected the need to assert his dominance, but it seemed that in things not relating to Cerberus, she wasn't particularly touchy. That...or her father had passed on his warning.

Maybe Jack was just being paranoid. Maybe this would just be a simple pick-up after all.

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**PRISON SHIP PURGATORY**

**DOCKING AREA**

**FIVE MINUTES LATER**

"I'll relinquish one bullet," Shepard informed the human he had pinned against the wall. His pistol was pressed right up against the skull of the Blue Suns officer. "Where do you want it?"

Peck swallowed his humiliation. He was bigger and stronger than this pale bastard. He'd snap him in half in a fair fight. But now the skinny finger on the trigger belonged to Shepard, not Peck. "You kill me, you don't get your prisoner."

"Wanna bet?" Shepard tightened his grip. "For what I'm paying, the Suns could hire a dozen new muscle heads like you."

"Everyone stand down!" A guttural roar echoed through the docking bay. A brown plated turian appeared behind the guards. "Shepard, I am Warden Kuril. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I have a standard policy. No weapons on unauthorised personnel. If the prisoners got so much as a handgun they could start a riot."

"Five people?" Shepard gestured to his makeshift team. "I don't have much hope for a station like this if you can't handle a team as small as mine. We've paid for our prisoner, we don't need to start a riot to break him out."

"Sir..." Peck tried to speak again. Shepard changed the location of his pistol from Peck's temple to his throat.

"Quiet pretty boy," Shepard patted him on the cheek. "The adults are talking."

"Let them pass," Shepard's remark had stung Kuril's pride. "We're more than prepared to handle a few armed guests. If you would follow me Commander?"

"Certainly," Shepard holstered his pistol. "See you around round, pretty boy."

Peck glared at Shepard as he strutted after Kuril. _'Just you wait. In ten minutes, you'll be in a cell and I'll be testing out that fancy armour of yours.'_

Something on Peck's face made Zaeed uneasy. He turned to the two Cerberus riflemen. "Jun, stay here. Keep an eye on those guys."

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"Impressed Commander?" Kuril noted Shepard's amazement at the giant prison blocks. "We house some of the worst scum in the galaxy here. Everything from mass murderers to white collar criminals. Their sentences range from a few years to life imprisonment."

"Why white collar criminals?" Corporal Nino asked from the rear of the group. "They don't seem like the kind of people to be stored in places like this."

"Rehabilitation," Kuril gave the turian equivalent of snicker. "Some of them, particularly the volus, are still incredibly valuable to their companies. But since Matriarch Varisian doesn't want her eighth niece running off with two million credits worth of embezzled funds again, she pays for her six month stay in my capable hands. I believe humans call it 'Scaring them straight'."

"Blimey," Zaeed looked fascinated. "Maybe it'd stop half the bloody insider trading going on in Nos Astra if they thought they'd wind up here."

"SHEPARD!" An angry yell came from down the hall. A thin salarian in an orange jumpsuit was being pushed along by a pair of turians. "I remember you! You're the reason I'm stuck in this hellhole!"

For a second, Antony looked confused. Then a look of absolute delight spread over his face. "Administrator Anoleias?"

"Oh you remember me?" Anoleias looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. "How nice. I hope you're happy. I'm penniless, jobless, surrounded by criminals and this damn jumpsuit chafes."

Shepard raised his hands. "I have no time for space born vagabonds," he quoted. "Did you expect me to do a favour to the guy who insulted me?"

"I'll be out of here in three years Shepard," Anoleias yelled as his guards forced him into a cell. "And when I do, I'll put a bounty on your head so big that every hired gun in the Terminus will be after you."

"Good luck with that," Antony casually flipped up his middle finger as he moved away from the ex-Administrator's cell. "I'll give your regards to Gianna Parsini next time I see her."

"I could give him a krogan cellmate if you like," Kuril suggested. "Consider it a professional courtesy. Anyway you'll find the Ghost just down the hall in Out processing. I recommend you keep the Ghost in a warm environment for the next few days. Coming out of cryo is not a pleasant experience for anyone."

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**CELL 78**

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't be in here. He had offered to serve with the Alliance instead of going to jail. His knowledge of explosives would have been invaluable to humanity. It wasn't as if he had harmed any humans. The colony he had hit had only been turians. Humanity was supposed to fight turians, make them pay for what they did on Shanxi. At least...that's what Grandad had said. Grandad had lost his legs at Shanxi. The turians had killed his whole squad in cold blood. They had to pay for that.

There were voices along the corridor. Human voices, not turians. Maybe they were here to get him out?

"Hey, hey you over there!" Miles yelled as he jumped off the bench and ran to the door of his cell. "Who are you?"

Shepard glanced at the human. "None of your business."

"Well, you're not prisoners, and you're not Blue Suns...you're customers." Miles felt a ray of hope. "Look, I'm Miles. Miles Stavendish. If you're buying prisoners, could you buy me too? I'm real good with explosives and stuff."

"We're wasting time Shepard," Jack tapped her foot impatiently. "We're not here for him."

"Hold on," Antony turned his full attention to the other man. "What are you in here for?"

"I killed a whole bunch of turians," Miles announced proudly. "Got about forty of them in the one blast. Real tricky stuff, did it with only some industrial grade explosives. I've got magic fingers man."

"Military base?"

"Nah, civilian colony. I wanted to hurt them the way they hurt our colonists on Shanxi."

Shepard's facial expression turned from interest to disgust. "Not interested. I've got enough terrorists to deal with as it is."

"Hold on, you were interested a second ago," Miles protested.

"I've had to kill turian soldiers in my time. It wasn't always legal, but it was for a purpose. Attacking civilians is barbarism." Jack sighed as Shepard gave one of his lectures. "I'm here to get The Ghost, not you."

"The Ghost?" Miles suddenly backed off. "Forget I ever mentioned it. Wherever the Ghost goes, trouble follows. I haven't met him, but I heard he busted out of here five times. Killed about thirty guards the last time. Biotics, improvised weapons, hand to hand, the guards got massacred. Kuril locked him in cryo this time, I doubt he's ever gonna let The Ghost go."

"He is now," Shepard turned away. "See you around Miles. Or not."

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"Jun, right?" Peck approached the young Cerberus Private. "Sorry if things got a little heated before. I really do respect Cerberus. You guys have humanity's best interests at heart."

"That's all cool man," the commando relaxed. "Orders are orders right?"

"Right," Peck agreed. "Say, your ship looks pretty advanced. Any chance of a tour?"

"I'm not sure if Operative Harper would approve," Jun looked back toward the airlock, unsure of how to proceed.

"That's okay," he heard Peck say. "I'm not really interested in a tour anyway."

Turning back, Jun found himself looking down the barrel of a pistol.

Peck only needed one bullet. It went straight through Jun's throat. The commando dropped his rifle, hands flying to his throat, trying to stem the bleeding. Peck caught him as he fell, gently lowering him to the ground.

"Shh, it's okay," Peck patted his shoulder sympathetically. "It'll all be over soon. I've seen these kinds of wounds before. You have about eight seconds."

Jun stared up at him in horror. He tried to move his lips, tried to beg for medi-gel, for bandages, for anything. But he couldn't.

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**OUTPROCESSING**

"Commander Shepard? Lieutenant Kiris sir," the turian indicated a door at the end of the room. "The Ghost is waiting in there for you."

"Thanks," Shepard was within three feet of the door when it opened. It was one of the interchangeable cells...and it was empty. He could almost hear a voice screaming '_IT'S A TRAP!'. _"Actually...no thanks."

=I'm sorry Shepard= Kuril's voice rang over the loudspeakers. =But you're more valuable to me as a prisoner than a customer. Surrender your weapons and I promise I'll let your team go=

Antony balled and released his fists, inhaled and exhaled several times and tried to picture a gently flowing river in his mind. "Kuril. I'm going to count to ten. Now, if you have the Ghost ready to go by then, I might reconsider ripping your mandibles off and feeding them to you."

=Don't make this harder than it has to be Shepard= Kuril warned. =Besides, if you're lucky, Cerberus will pay your bail=

"Your time's up Kuril."

=So is yours. Kiris?=

The other turian drew his shotgun and pumped a round into Corporal Nino at close range. The Cerberus trooper's shields weren't even raised. He collapsed to the deck in the welter of his gore. Before Kiris could switch targets, Jack encased him in a biotic field and squeezed. The modified barrier instantly compacted him into half of his previous size. A crunch of bones and a squeal signified his end.

"Make your peace with the Spirits," Shepard called, deliberately unclasping his rifle. "You'll be meeting them in about ten minutes."

=SHEPARD IS LOOSE, ACTIVATE SECURITY=

Antony yanked back the charging handle. The rifle gave an eager whine as it loaded a thermal clip. The sound of booted feet pounding against metal grating signified the arrival of Blue Suns reinforcements.

"I'll focus on shielded targets. Harper, focus on unshielded. Zaeed, take out any mechs you see. We'll go straight to cryo."

"Affirmative," Jack felt a twinge of satisfaction. He didn't trust her or Zaeed, but he slipped into his role as a commander without even thinking about it. "Engaging."

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**A/N: When I first stepped onto Purgatory, I was half hoping you'd get to see some of the potential 'prisoners' you took in ME1, such as Anoleias, the Cerberus doctor (if you saved him from Toombs), and a few others. I felt Bioware missed a good opportunity to add some comic relief, (seeing Anoleias in prison would have Made My Day).**


	11. Hitchhiker's May Be Escaped Convicts

Changing Fate

Chapter Eleven: Hitchhiker's May Be Escaped Convicts

I don't own Bioware.

**SSV AIN JALUT**

**ORBITING BATARIAN COLONY MALHAK**

**MAIN HANGAR BAY**

**2185**

"Thirty seconds till drop!" Service Chief Bloch flexed his fingers. "I can't believe we're actually doing this!"

"You better believe it!" Corporal Lashia checked her parasail one more time. "You mind going over this one more time Commander?"

"You need reminding?" Kaidan swallowed his own nervousness. "Hit the ground fast, take out the guard towers and barracks, free the prisoners and wait for the Ain Jalut to land. In and out before they realise we're there."

"And if things go FUBAR? If there's more batarians than we thought?" A Staff Lieutenant yelled over the sound of the Jalut's hangar door opening.

"Then kill them all and count the bodies!" Kaidan took a running jump out of the hangar bay. Wind whistled past him as he plummeted toward the Drop Zone. It felt good to get back in the fight. There were going to be at least two hundred less batarians in the galaxy by the end of the day. Shepard would have been proud.

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**CITADEL**

**ALLIANCE EMBASSY**

**2183**

_The result of the fight was never in doubt. Kaidan was the stronger biotic but Shepard was the better fighter by far. Well, either that or he was less affected by the alcohol he had been drinking._

_Kaidan felt his nose crack as Shepard cut loose with a wild haymaker. He plummeted to the floor, bleeding from his nose and mouth._

"_What's the matter Kaidan?" Shepard taunted him. "A little fist-fighting too much for you? Maybe we should have a whining competition instead? You'd win that for sure. Just induce a migraine and you'll start bitching about how hard your life's been, how much you regret breaking that turian's neck and letting everyone know what a freak you are."_

"_Get fucked," Kaidan swore as he unleashed a biotic throw at Shepard, hurling him into the wall._

_Shepard's hand closed around his pistol, the Stinger V unfolding as he stood up and pointed it at Kaidan. The Staff Lieutenant had wrapped himself in a barrier, ready to unleash another biotic attack._

"_Come on sir," Kaidan snarled. "I dare you. Pull the trigger. Kill me the same way you killed her. Do it!"_

"_SHEPARD, KAIDAN!" Joker staggered into Embassy, moving as fast as his crutches would permit. "What the hell are you two doing?"_

"_Nothing Joker," Shepard lowered his pistol. "Alenko, you're under arrest for striking a superior officer. You will power down your biotics and surrender yourself for incarceration."_

"_Who's going to take me in? You?"_

"_No, Joker is. Mr. Moreau, escort Lieutenant Alenko to the C-Sec lock-up. He'll stay there until I finish filing the court marshal papers."_

_The fight went out of Kaidan's eyes. He dropped his barrier, and for the first time since Shepard had met him, Kaidan Alenko looked defeated. He walked out of the embassy, Joker hobbling along behind him. The pilot didn't know what he had just witnessed; only that it scared the crap out of him._

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_Kaidan had spent a week and a half in the lock-up. He had heard the news of the Normandy departing on a mission into geth space and had waited, day after day, for anyone to come speak with him._

_Eventually, Anderson had bailed him out. The new Councillor had taken him to the secure briefing room aboard the_ Everest_._

"_The first thing you should know," Anderson turned toward him. "Is that Shepard never filed court marshal papers, even though he would have been damned well within his rights to do so. He just wanted to make you sweat a little. Told me to get you out after two weeks and stick you on clean up duty for a while. He also said...that he was sorry."_

"_Yes sir," Kaidan felt a weight lifted off his chest. He hadn't alienated his friend. Grief and alcohol had just been a bad mix. "I understand."_

"_The second thing," Anderson looked out at the stars. "Is that Shepard has been declared Missing in Action over Alchera. I suspect that will be altered to KIA before the week is out. The Normandy was attacked and destroyed by a suspected geth vessel. We have twenty more crewmen MIA, the rest have been recovered safely."_

_The blood drained from Kaidan's face. That was impossible. Nothing could kill Shepard. Certainly nothing as trivial as geth. "You're wrong."_

_Anderson ignored the breach in protocol. "I wish I was, but I'm not. She was ambushed, the damn thing saw right through her stealth systems. Shepard evacuated as many crewmembers as he could, launched the distress beacon, and then tossed Joker into an escape pod. He was just a few seconds too slow to save himself."_

"_You're wrong!" Kaidan clenched his fists. Shepard was invincible. He always survived. Death itself was afraid of him. "Nothing can kill Antony sir. That bastard will turn up alive sooner or later. He doesn't know how to die."_

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Sometimes he still imagined Shepard was still out there, journeying under a false name, a false face. Finding some way to stop the Reapers. But in his heart of hearts, Kaidan knew the truth. Commander Shepard had died over Alchera, and he had never gotten to tell his friend that he was sorry for what he said.

He wouldn't have been anything without Shepard. Antony had been a brother and mentor to him. A symbol, a flag to rally around. Without that flag, Kaidan had found himself without a purpose. Sometimes he had sought Death on the battlefield, hoping to recreate the thrill of almost getting his head shot off when following Shepard into the fray. Sometimes he had sought companionship with a bottle of whiskey, and remembered toasting his victories with Shepard.

But his soul had healed itself. In a way, Libby had brought him back from the brink. Her smile filling in the hole of losing Ashley and Shepard. Kaidan had rediscovered purpose and motivation. He didn't seek Death out anymore, he dealt it.

Shepard would have been proud.

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**PRISON SHIP PURGATORY**

**CRYO WING**

**2185**

"Please...let's talk about this!" The tech pleaded as Shepard stormed in the door of the control unit.

"No," Shepard shot him in the face. Almost immediately he regretted it. "Dammit, shouldn't have killed him."

"Why not?" Zaeed sealed the door behind them. Shepard didn't seem like the type to have conscience attacks.

"Because I don't know how to operate this console," Shepard gestured angrily. Jack pushed past him with a huff of irritation.

"Assuming direct control," she hacked into the mainframe in twelve seconds. Not bad considering the extensive firewalls. "I'm in. Looks like the cryo unit runs on the same wavelength as the rest of the wing. It'll take me a minute to isolate it."

"Don't bother," Shepard checked his omni-tool. The threat sensor was showing large blobs of red approaching the door behind him. "We need a distraction to get out of here. A big one."

"Open every door on the block?" Zaeed laughed. "That's one way to get their attention."

"Commander, I formally recommend we don't do that," Jack frowned. "It'll just double the number of people we have to fight on the way out."

"Ghost will be debilitated coming out of cryo!" Shepard barked. "If we're lucky, the prisoners and guards will focus on killing each other."

"Luck is a subjective to be ignored or eliminated," Jack thought about Shepard's boast that he would kill her if she questioned him in the field. She'd like to see him try.

"Under normal circumstances I would agree," Shepard also remembered his threat. Circumstances prevented him from fulfilling it. Also, he didn't know if he could take her in his current condition. Already the exertion of battle had tired him out. He'd need a stim if he was going to fight his way out. "But we've got a whole ship full of guards between us and our getaway. We have limited ammo, one biotic, and we still have to complete our mission. We need to alter the situation drastically. For once in your life Harper, just roll the dice and hope for the best. Trust me."

Jack was amazed. He was asking **her** to trust **him**? He'd ignored every suggestion she'd made ever since he'd woken up, belittled her skills, insulted her at every turn and even had the gall to sexually harass her. She had brought him back to life, and the only thanks he had given her was an off hand remark on the way to Minuteman.

'_You read his file," _a voice in head reminded her. _'He's an egotistical jackass, but he's got the tactical mind of General Hannibal.'_

"Opening the cell block now," she turned back to the console. "I hope you know what you're doing Shepard."

"You and me both," Shepard muttered, moving closer to the window.

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**CRYO UNIT 12**

_She and Niket were down by the river. He was setting up the tent for tonight's camp. She had finished all her homework. Father had promised her the weekend off. Just her and her big brother, all alone in the wilderness._

_She decided to go for a swim first. The water looked nice and cool. Wouldn't it be nice to just jump in and start swimming? She hopped up on one of the rocks, but it was slippery. She wobbled, grasping at thin air, then toppled forward. With a frustrated cry, she hit the water._

_Cold. Cold and damp. Not just cold and damp, freezing._

"_Of course it's freezing," her brain scolded her. "They put you in cryo!"_

_Why would they put a little girl in cryo?_

_No. Not a little girl. Big girl. Adult. Thief. The Ghost. Lawson. Miranda. Miri._

_Friends. Kasumi? Keji? Where were they? Something bad happened. Something so bad she wanted to cry. It was her fault, somehow._

_Going up, platform raising. Platform halting. Restraints snapping off. Falling again._

_At last._

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Miranda fell to all fours. She retched and vomited all over the platform. A special nutrient paste was injected into the lungs of prisoners in cryo. It prevented the respiratory system from degrading and replaced nutrients lost by the frozen criminal over long periods of time. They must have changed the formula. It tasted like strawberry flavoured mucus instead of lime.

Her mind was in overdrive, struggling to overcome the cramps and aches shooting through her body.

_Naked,_ her brain noted. _No clothes on._

'_Well that's obvious genius. You can't wear clothes in cryogenic suspension, it interrupts the freezing process.'_

_Frozen hair follicles on the floor, _her brain continued. _All bodily hair killed by extreme cold. Risk of hypothermia increased._

'_So I'm bald, have no eyebrows and am about to die from cold?'_

_Still alive,___her brain was now being optimistic. _Alive and out of cryo._

"Move," Miranda crawled forward, forcing her eyes to open. There wasn't an inch of her that didn't hurt. Her muscles were unresponsive. Had they atrophied?

She experimentally set her feet on the floor and pushed herself into a standing position. No, her muscles were still working, they were just cramped. She could walk, in a few minutes she'd be able to run.

=**RETURN TO YOUR CELL**=

The mechanical voice made her look up. Squinting past the overly bright lights, she made out three shapes unfolding and facing her. YMIR mechs. Lovely.

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"That's 'The Ghost'?" Zaeed's mouth was hanging open. "Boy...she's got some nice knockers."

Privately, Shepard agreed. "Looks a bit thin for my taste," he shrugged. "But then, cryo usually eats up body fat."

"I am surrounded by idiots," Jack stared at the target. Right height, same face as the one on the dossier, this was Subject Zero without a doubt. Her hair had fallen out during cryo, and she looked like she had lost a quarter of her body weight. But that was definitely her if the computer models were accurate. The little girl who escaped Pragia had grown up. Too bad she had run away for so long. She could have already helped humanity so much.

Still, better late than never. And in a way, this was better. Subject Zero had acquired skills that would make her a valuable asset to Cerberus. And along the way, Jack would be able to make discrete scans of the subject. Nothing invasive, the Illusive Man didn't want to spook her. But Jack was patient, she'd find a way to get a blood sample, then a full body scan, maybe even a full DNA analysis. One step at a time though.

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"Would one of you mind bringing me a towel?" Condensation was now covering Miranda's body. She was shaking uncontrollably. Biotic sparks leapt from her finger tips. Her nodes hadn't discharged in over a year. Just what she needed.

=**RETURN TO YOUR CELL=**

"Towel first."

**=LETHAL FORCE AUTHORISED=**

"I don't think so," Miranda flared bright blue, her barrier overcharged. Rockets and MAC rounds bounced off her and ricocheted around the room. She charged straight at the lead mech. "BRING IT ON!"

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The Ghost disappeared from Shepard's line of sight. Explosions shook the area underneath the control unit.

"Okay, now I'm impressed," Shepard sprinted toward the door leading down into the cryo bay. "We need to get to her before she..."

A third explosion put a stop to his sentence. By the time Shepard had made it down the ramp, Ghost was gone. A gaping hole in the wall marked her point of egress.

=GHOST IS OUT= Kuril roared angrily over the intercom. =RIOTS IN ALL CELL BLOCKS. LETHAL FORCE IS AUTHORISED, BUT DON'T KILL GHOST=

"Orders Shepard?" Jack was a little less awed than her colleagues at the destruction. On her worst day, she could have done something similar to Zero. Except Zero's power was artificial. Jack's was natural.

Shepard led the way into some kind of maintenance corridor. "Kuril's playhouse is burning down. Let's help it along. Ghost can't get off this ship, she needs us. Can you signal Jun?"

"Not getting any answer from him," Zaeed grimaced. "Poor kid's probably dead by now."

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The first person Miranda saw when she burst out onto the main cellblock was Vlad. Vlad was a thickset, hulking human. He had raped and killed sixteen asari maidens on Serrice, not necessarily in that order. During her first stay on Purgatory, Miranda had earned protection and co-operation from the prison's chapter of Eclipse Sisters by castrating Vlad in the showers. That co-operation had allowed her to orchestrate her first escape.

"GHOST!" Vlad brandished a captured shotgun. "I've been waiting years for this!"

Reaching out, Miranda gripped his neck with her biotics and tore his throat out. "Should have waited longer Vladdy boy."

It took her sixteen seconds to strip off his boots and jumpsuit. One of her problems was now solved. Readying another burst of power, Miranda leapt up toward the catwalk and slammed in through the glass barrier.

"Hey!" Another human in a jumpsuit was behind her. She picked him up in a pull field.

"Please don't kill me!" Miles begged. "I can help you get out of here. There are some customers on board. They haven't left yet. I think I know where to find their ship. I can show you!"

Miranda saw the symbol next to his prison number. One stroke down, two strokes across. Mass murder. You had to knock off fifteen or more to get that little trophy on Purgatory. Her lip curled in a sneer. "No thanks, I know the way."

She hurled him out the entrance she had made. He plummeted down to the concourse and landed with a definite crack. Two scumbags dead and the day had barely started.

Miranda quickly got her bearings. Outprocessing and Cryo were to the right, Docking Area to the left. Probably about thirty guards between her and escape. All too easy.

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"She's on the catwalk," Jack cursed. "She'll head straight for our ship."

"What will she do with it?"

"She has two MO's," Jack threw a warp at a turian sniper on the other side of the cell block. "She'll either sneak on board and hide, wait for us to depart and hitch a ride back to a hub world. Or, if she realises it's a Cerberus vessel, she'll kill everyone on board and take it for herself."

"She hates you guys that much?"

"She has a persecution complex beyond the dreams of most psycho-analysts," the Operative led the way toward the exit.

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Miranda was alternatively a flowing river and a charging bull. She hit her opponents with enough force to shatter bones and pulverise skin and plates. She wasn't sure how long she had been kept in cryo. It seemed like only five minutes ago, Kuril had told her about Keji. It wasn't fair. Keji was a good man. The way he lived his life might have been illegal, but it certainly wasn't immoral.

Had Kasumi escaped whatever trap had taken Keji? How had Hock found them? Miranda had had Kasumi's farewell note on her omni-tool. A clever tech could have tracked them down through that.

Was she responsible for Keji getting killed? The thought hurt almost more than the cramps. She needed to focus on something else.

A rabid krogan charged at her.

"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

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"Engaging target!" Jack activated her omni-tool's overload function. The YMIR mech's shields flared slightly, but stayed up. "I can't breach his shields Shepard!"

"Alright!" Shepard tossed his rifle to her. "Keep that thing occupied. I'll be back in sec."

"Shepard, don't you...!" Jack was yelling at thin air. Shepard sprinted across the main floor of the second cell block, skidding to a halt next to a batarian corpse. He pried something off the back of the dead mercenary and pointed it at the YMIR. A second later, the YMIR staggered as Shepard launched a missile that slammed into its midsection.

Shepard, Jack and Zaeed continued pouring fire into the behemoth. One of the rounds from Zaeed's Mattock hit the mech's rocket supply. The explosion was almost biblical.

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Kuril plunged his combat talon into the human's chest. The skinny alien gurgled one last protest before collapsing. Grabbing his Revenant, Kuril poured another burst of fire into the rioting prisoners.

They all collapsed under the stream of bullets. Murderers, thieves, fraudsters, rapists, the worst scum of the galaxy. He'd taken them away from society, where they wouldn't be able to harm the innocent. He was an _honourable _turian. He didn't wear warpaint or pledge allegiance to any clan. He didn't need to. He was his own clan.

Shepard was supposed to be the reward of his life of service. A chance to actually make a profit off this hive of living garbage, pass on the reins to someone else and retire. Maybe find a turian mate and raise a family. But no, Shepard just couldn't co-operate.

The scum died fast. Spirits, he should have done this years ago. Relieve over-crowding and teach them all a valuable object lesson. This was _his _ship, _his _prison. He made the rules, they followed them. Purgatory was lost, he knew that now. But these bastards would not go free.

"KURIL!"

He heard the shout as the last one falls. There was Shepard. The pale face was scattered with glowing scars. He looked as pissed as Kuril felt. For a moment Kuril was afraid. There was a terrible fire glowing in Shepard's eyes. He turned to run, his personal yacht was nearby, he'd haul off and destroy Purgatory with the scuttling charges. Discretion was the better part of valour.

"COME AND FACE ME, YOU HONOURLESS BASTARD!" Shepard howled at the retreating figure.

All thoughts of running away vanished. Kuril wouldn't be insulted. Not by anybody, particularly this insignificant human. Throwing away his Revenant, the turian leapt off the platform and tackled Shepard. The human growled and tried to fight back, but Kuril was far stronger.

"I could have sold you and lived like a king Shepard!" He wrapped his hands around his adversary's throat. "But at least I can still sell the Ghost. I'm a survivor."

"You're a slaver," Shepard choked out.

"And you work with terrorists," Kuril tightened his grip. "Do you have any idea of how long it will take me to round up all these bastards?"

"Nope," Shepard was on his last reserves of oxygen. "Do you have any idea of how painful it will be when my buddy over there kicks your ass?"

Kuril looked up to see a booted foot coming toward his face. His head snapped backwards and his neck broke. Brain death occurred five seconds later.

Zaeed looked disappointed. In his right hand was a monstrous bowie knife. "Sorry Shepard. That should have lasted longer."

"Forget about it," Shepard staggered back to his feet. He didn't even bother retrieving his rifle. He staggered toward the elevator leading up to the docking bay.

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Three batarians, six turians, and Joshua Peck. Miranda saved him for last. She had used a considerable amount of energy so far. She conserved her strength, using mini-warps to simulate bullet wounds.

Peck tried to bring his pistol to bear, she delivered a kick to his chest that sent him sprawling. His troops were dead, and he was without a weapon, the Blue Suns officer felt his courage desert him. "Come on Ghost," he scrambled backwards. "It was nothing personal, just business."

"It was personal to me," Miranda concentrated on his left chest area. Crushing his heart would be a nice, slow, unpleasant way for him to die. "My friends are dead because of you. The only people who ever gave a shit about me and you..."

Two gunshots interrupted her monologue. One went clean through Peck's head, the other took down a turian approaching Miranda from behind. She turned to see who had shot.

Two men and one woman stood in front of her. One was pale skinned, looked pretty damn anaemic and was dressed in midnight black armour with a red stripe down the side of the arm. The second was grey haired, tanned, and had a horrible scar down the side of his face. One of his eyes was nothing but a milky white orb. Both had their pistols out. The older one was a traditionalist, shooting one handed. The younger as still posed in a modified Weaver stance. He looked like the real professional, despite his skinny build.

"Who the fuck are you?" She demanded angrily, flaring back up. She could see the logo on the woman's too-tight catsuit. That golden diamond was permanently engraved on her memory. It matched perfectly with the one on the side of the ship outside. Cerberus.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and I just saved your life," the man relaxed and holstered his pistol.

"They were both already dead. They just didn't know it," Miranda didn't know if she had the strength left to take down these there. Where was a chocolate bar when you needed it? "What do you want?"

"I'm...recruiting a team. A special team. Collector's have been attacking human colonies, I'm going to stop them," Shepard wasn't exactly sure what he was doing. He knew he needed a team, but he wanted a real team, Alliance N7's. But the biotics this woman had displayed were beyond anything he had ever seen. "Someone said that 'The Ghost' was the best biotic in the sector."

"Biotic, con-artist, thief," Miranda shrugged. "But if you think I'm going on a Cerberus ship with you..."

"What did Cerberus do to you?"

"They didn't tell you?" That was typical, they were manipulating this poor SOB already and he didn't know it. "I was their dirty little experiment. They kidnapped me when I was five and raised me in a research lab. Took me years to escape, they've been chasing me ever since. So if you think I'm going to willingly waltz back into their arms, you've got another thing coming."

"That's not the whole story," Jack muttered.

"Stow it," Antony advised her. "Look, Ghost, think of it as a job. One that you can name your own price for."

"You're kidding?" Miranda raised an eyebrow. Another explosion rippled through the station. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want," Shepard confirmed.

Miranda self consciously ran a hand over her scalp. "I want a follicle regenerator to start off with."

"There's one on the ship."

Miranda nodded. "I want access to every file Cerberus has on a man named Donovan Hock."

"Done."

"And I want a fuckload of credits."

"What?" Shepard was surprised. He was offering her anything Cerberus could offer...and she wanted money?

"Kuril cleaned out my accounts," she explained. "I dislike being a pauper. Your Cerberus buddies have deep pockets. I want five, no...ten million as a sign on bonus. Ten thousand credits for every firefight I get involved in, plus another three million when the job's done. Oh, and you pay for my weapons and equipment."

"Done." It felt nice to be operating with a large budget. Most of his funds when chasing Saren had come from the credits he 'confiscated' off the pirates and slavers he wiped out. This woman would be worth every last cent. "Welcome to the team Ghost."

"Cut out the Ghost bullshit," she extended her hand. "My name's Lawson. Miranda Lawson."

"Antony B. Shepard," Shepard shook it.

"Massani," Zaeed grunted.

"Operative Ja..." Jack began to speak, but Miranda had already turned away.

"Don't really care what your name is cheerleader. Just don't fuck with me."

"The feeling's mutual," Jack murmured. "Chrome dome."

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**A/N: And now I really need to get back to work on my history presentation.**


	12. Who is the Traitor?

Changing Fate

Chapter Twelve: Who is the Traitor?

I don't own Bioware

**BATARIAN COLONY MALHAK**

**PRISONER OF WAR CAMP**

**2185**

Second rate soldiers. Second rate weapons. Second rate tactics. Second rate fight.

The N7's had hit with shock and awe methods, perfected during their weeks of training. This was a straight up fight. All reconnaissance had been done by spy drones and intelligence operatives. No aspect of the raid had been left up to chance. Each fireteam had its part to play, a perfectly synchronised orchestra of violence.

Alpha Team hit the guard towers with M-100s, blowing the heavy automated turrets of their mountings. Bravo and Charlie Teams burst into the pre-fab serving as a barracks, hitting it with tear gas, flashbangs and white phosphorus grenades. Blinded, deaf, choking and burning, the batarian guards died rapidly.

Delta Team seized the camp's control unit. Kaidan stormed past the rows of consoles, his pistol barking as he selected and downed his targets. A batarian in heavy armour stood at the top of the stairs.

"Who are you?" The commander seemed surprised to see the human commandoes. "This is Hegemony territory!"

"And these are Alliance soldiers you're holding," Kaidan slammed the batarian against the wall. "Where are you holding them?"

"I'm not..." The batarian screamed as Kaidan stabbed his top left eye with a knife.

"You've got three more eyes friend," Kaidan's knife hovered above the top right eyeball. "Where are you holding them?"

"In the mine," the commander groaned. "But you need my palm print to open the cells. If you let me live, I'll help you."

"You don't need to bargain for your life," Kaidan pushed him toward the door. "I don't kill prisoners."

**CERBERUS TRANSPORT SLOOP**

_**ACHILLES' FURY**_

**WIDOW SYSTEM**

=We're coming in to land at the Citadel now= The pilot spoke over the intercom. =Looks like our ID held up under scrutiny. I've got us a berth on Zakeera Ward. ETA, two minutes=

"Thank you Lieutenant," Jack turned to Shepard. "So Shepard, do you think the Council will listen to you?"

"I saved their lives, they owe me five minutes to explain myself," Shepard felt the first pangs of doubt. For the first time he considered just how unlikely his story was going to sound. Brought back to life by a terrorist organisation, that might not go down so well. "Thank you for your assistance. Miss Lawson and myself can handle ourselves for now."

"And if the Alliance doesn't give you a team?"

"They will," Antony sounded more confident than he felt. "Tell the Illusive Man that I might get in touch with him at a later date if I need assistance. You can leave whenever you want."

"I might stick around," Jack had swapped out her black and white catsuit for a fashionable blouse and skirt. "I here there's a new restaurant on Zakeera Ward that's absolutely fabulous. I'll be there if you need me."

"I've got better things to do than eat overcooked entrées," Shepard pushed past her. "If you will excuse me, I have a meeting to attend."

Jack shrugged. "Good luck Shepard. You don't know just how much of it you'll need."

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Shepard knocked on the door of Miranda's temporary quarters. "Miss Lawson? You ready to go?"

"Just a second."

Her accent intrigued him. It sounded vaguely Australian, but not like Gunny Rickley from the Two Sixty Seven. His was harsh, barely understandable. Hers was refined, cultured, pleasant. It contrasted sharply with the way she killed. Her use of biotics had been wild, almost completely out of control. She had ripped through guard and prisoner alike. No mercy, no hesitation.

His kind of fighter.

"So, you got brought back to life by Cerberus," Miranda wiped her face down with a towel as she stepped out of the room. The follicle regenerator had done its job. Her scalp was now covered with a black fuzz. A meal scraped together from a couple of MRE's had also helped. She still looked like a half starved tomboy, but not quite as skinny as before. "You wonder how many poor bastards got experimented on to get that kind of tech?"

"It worked didn't it?"

_Yeah, I do wonder. It's not worth any of it._

"You're a pretty cool customer," there was a hint of respect in her voice. "Still, they're paying my fee for now. As long as the cheques keep rolling in, I'll fight for you."

"Can you work with the Marines we'll be getting?"

"As long as they don't get any ideas about putting me in an Alliance prison," Miranda scratched at the stubble of her hair. "Look, I don't want to mess around with your big Council meeting. How about you go get yourself nice and snuggled up with them, and I'll get some shopping done?"

"You want to go shopping at a time like this?"

"I need weapons, a new bodysuit, and some personal items," Miranda raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to make do on the cheap junk Cerberus is giving us?"

"This stuff isn't exactly bottom of the market," Shepard protested. His armour was top quality, and the weapons, while basic, were good models.

"Maybe so," Miranda walked toward the airlock. "But they're not really my style. I'll meet you on Zakeera Ward in an hour."

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"Anyone alive down here?" Kaidan shouted down the rows of cells. There were twenty of the 'pens', each of them big enough to hold at least thirty prisoners squashed together. Batarians didn't store their slaves any other way. But these ones were empty. Kaidan had expected to find them filled with batarian political dissidents as well as the Alliance POWs. Not this. It just didn't make sense.

"I'm still alive!" A hoarse voice called from one of the pens at the far end. "Please...help us!"

"Hold on," Kaidan pushed the guard commander forward. "Miles, get this thing open!"

"Roger sir!" Corporal Miles hooked his omni-tool into the system. "Opening the cell doors now sir."

Three humans were lying in the cell. And only three. Almost naked, clad in the ragged remnants of Alliance uniforms. A gaunt cheeked man, with his ribs sticking out against his skin, stood up and offered a shaking salute to Alenko.

"Lieutenant Commander Laurie Fitzgibbon sir," he gasped out. "SSV _Euroka_, Commanding Officer."

"_Euroka_ was declared lost with all hands." Kaidan looked at the other two occupants. The woman was knocking at death's door, the other man wasn't much better.

"My escape pod was picked up by the squints sir. They brought me here immediately. It was something of a collection point for POWs. At maximum capacity, we held about five hundred down here."

"Where did they go?" Kaidan helped to sit back down. "Our reports said that only about thirty to fifty were being held."

"They disappeared over time sir," the man's bloodshot eyes clouded over. "They sold us by the shipload to the Collectors. Only the unhealthy ones though. The ones that couldn't work anymore. Me, Major Dodd and Staff Commander Abbot were left behind. The highest ranking officers."

Kaidan could hear Miles calling for the stretchers. "Take it easy Laurie, you're safe now. We're going to get you back home."

"What about my men sir?" Fitzgibbon gripped Kaidan's shoulder. "I had seventeen crewmen left alive. We have to get them back sir."

"When the time's right Commander," Kaidan prepped a sedative and injected it into Fitzgibbon's arm. "You need to rest."

"It's over," Fitzgibbon slumped back against the wall. "Thank God. It's all over."

Kaidan held his sympathetic face until the man was unconscious. The three survivor's were quickly loaded onto stretcher's and carried out of the mine. The guard commander started to follow them.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kaidan grabbed him and threw him back into the cell. "You think I'm letting you walk out of here?"

"You said you'd let me live," the commander spluttered. "You said you didn't kill prisoners."

Kaidan turned away. "I lied. Miles, seal him in."

"No! You can't do this!" The commander threw himself against the gate as it closed. "Please! My superiors will kill me once they find me!"

"Don't worry, that won't happen," Kaidan nodded to his explosives techs. "Set the C-12. Bury this place."

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The aircar took Miranda and Shepard to the transit terminal just outside of Zakeera Ward. It smelled different to Kithoi Ward. Probably due to the lower human influence. It was different. Not better, but different. Shepard wasn't a man who preferred alien culture to human, but a little variety never went astray.

"_The Destiny Ascension has just completed its thirty colony victory cruise, celebrating the anniversary of the Battle of the Citadel. Fleet Admiral Matriarch Kerriss Dossanto has been praised by the Council for ordering the names of each Alliance crewman killed in the heroic charge by Fifth Fleet against the geth to be permanently engraved on the bridge of the Citadel Fleet flagship. The Fleet Admiral has also selected a new personal flag, a picture of the Alliance and Asari Republic insignias, surrounded by the titles of the eight Fifth Fleet cruisers destroyed in the fighting."_

"This place hasn't changed much in a year," Miranda inhaled deeply. "Smells like a paradise compared to Purgatory."

"Speaking of Purgatory..." Shepard listened as another news broadcast began.

"_The Blue Suns prison ship 'Purgatory', has suffered an immense riot that has lead to the destruction of the prison. A rogue outside element, possibly belonging to the extremist group 'Cerberus', launched an assault on the facility in a carefully planned jailbreak. Numerous prisoners have been recovered, dead or alive, but even more such as legendary thief 'Ghost', the 'Numbers Killer', and other high profile..."_

"That's just bad reporting," Miranda shook her head. "I originally called myself 'The Phantom', but the turians couldn't pronounce it."

Antony was slightly confused. "Aren't you more worried about getting through security?"

"Relax, I got it covered," Miranda stepped into the security corridor. Shepard followed her. A turian C-Sec sergeant waited at the end.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," he apologised. "Gonna have to scan you."

"For weapons?" Shepard had left his rifle back on the ship, but he had kept the pistol. He was pretty sure Miranda was also packing.

"Nope, identity," the turian explained with a grin. "Gun crime isn't much of a problem anymore. We've installed dampers in all high traffic areas where firefights might happen. Avina interfaces with a weapon once it's drawn and disables its targeting computer."

"High tech stuff," Antony privately wished they had had that back in the old days. Might have stopped half the firefights he had gotten into on Kithoi Ward.

"Yep," the turian looked down at its omni tool. "Okay, welcome to the Citadel Miss Green, enjoy your stay."

"Thanks handsome," Miranda flashed him a grin as she passed. "See you around Shepard."

"Sure," Shepard stepped up to the scanner. The blue light ran across him a few times. The turian sergeant's omni-tool beeped again.

"This is weird," Haron glanced up at the human in front of him. "My scanner seems to think you're dead."

"I am," Antony nodded. "Was, rather. I'm Commander Shepard."

Haron folded his arms. "Bullshit."

"Nope, I'm really him."

"Yeah right. Commander Shepard is seven feet tall."

"You're about incorrect by about eight inches," Shepard couldn't believe this. "Shouldn't your reason for doubting who I am be based on...I don't know...my death?"

"Nah, Spectres die and turn up alive all the time," Haron shook his head. "We had a salarian Spectre the other day, hid himself in cryo for a couple of hundred years to outlive the statute of limitations the batarians have on him. His old asari partner retrieved him. First thing the guy did was demand to know if a bomb he had hidden in the Hegemony Embassy had gone off yet. It hadn't, caused quite a stir up on the Presidium. The arming mechanisms were so old it took an eight hundred year old krogan bombmaker to disarm them. They took a hundred years off his sentence in exchange."

"Look, check my file," Antony felt another wave of nausea sweep over him. "I need to get to the Alliance Embassy and sort all this out."

"Sure, just go talk to my Captain," Haron opened the doors. "And then go have some doughnuts man. You look like you could use some sugar."

"Thanks." Before he could continue, Haron thrust his arm out in front of him.

"Hey, before you go," Haron held out a black plastic case. On the cover was printed **BATTLEFIELD: BAD COMPANY RETURNS**. "Would you be able to sign this for me? Just bought it this morning."

"Sure," Shepard fumbled for a pen. This was going to be a strange day. "You know if it's any good?"

"I hope so," Haron nodded. "They say the multiplayer is gonna kick Call of Honour's ass."

"Anything is better than the same recycled experience, over and over again." Shepard agreed as he passed through the doors.

He found himself surrounded by a bustling crowd of C-Sec officers. There was an unusual amount of humans rather than turians or asari. Even the guy in charge was human, a blonde man with a square jaw and a gravelly voice.

"He won't tell you if just ask nicely," the Captain was barking at a junior officer. "You'll have to make him scream a little first."

"Hey," Shepard tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm trying to clear up a small issue about..."

The Captain spun around.

"Shepard!"

"Bailey?"

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_**ARCTURUS STATION**_

_**MARCH 5**__**TH**__**, 2179**_

_**INTERNAL AFFAIRS**_

"_Now," Staff Commander Bailey sat down in front of the two junior officers. "Do you two know why I've asked you to come here today?"_

"_I'm guessing it's not to offer us tea and cookies?" Shepard leaned back, a cocky grin decorating his face. Kaidan wasn't quite so cocksure, but he didn't look particularly worried either._

"_Correct," Bailey folded his arms on his desk. "You're here because no other Internal Affairs officer had the balls to call you out on the bunch of shit you stuffed in your last Incident Report. Five turian pirates were in your custody, you were supposed to transport them straight to Arcturus. Instead, when your ship docked at Arcturus, three of those pirates were found dead in the brig, and the other two weren't much better. Care to explain?"_

"_Come on sir," the Staff Lieutenant shrugged. "You've read my report. One of them got loose and got his hands on a gun. Me and Mr. Alenko had to stop him."_

"_And yet the other two swore that you had beaten the other three to death with your biotics. Apparently you wanted the location of their boss. They said they gave it to you."_

"_That was under regular interrogation," First Lieutenant Alenko elaborated. "The Staff Lieutenant and I would never have breached the Citadel Conventions sir."_

"_I see." Bailey leaned forward. "You know what I think? I think that when I get the camera footage from the Valpariso, it'll show at least one of you torturing those poor bastards. And when I get it, I'm going to drag you up in front of the Judge Advocate General and I'm going to see you both tossed in the stockade for twenty years each."_

"_I don't think so," Shepard's smirk was gone. "I'll tell you what's going to happen...sir. Your terminal is gonna ring soon. And when you answer it, someone with a lot more brass than you is gonna chew you out and order you to let us go."_

"_Really?" If there was one thing in the whole world that Bailey loved, it was taking arrogant little shits like this one down a few pegs. "Is that all?"_

"_That's pretty much it," Shepard paused. "Oh, and you might have just ruined your career."_

"_How do you figure that?"_

"_I know that we nailed two pirate frigates in the Armstrong Cluster. And I know that the daughter of a very important asari diplomat was a prisoner on board one of them. I reckon everything will sort itself out."_

_Bailey's terminal began beeping insistently. Shepard's smirk returned. "That'll be Commodore Mikhailovich now."_

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"I heard you died," Bailey sat back down at his desk. "Cracked open a case of the good stuff to celebrate."

Shepard bit back a thousand angry retorts. He restricted himself to just one. "I heard you got fired for drinking on the job."

"That's what happens when you get busted back to Lieutenant Commander and re-assigned to garrison duty on some shithole colony out in the Skyllian Verge," Bailey growled. "Turns out twenty years of exemplary service doesn't do you much good when you pick a fight with Admiral Hackett's golden boy."

"You picked the fight," Antony crossed his arms. "I did the right thing. Sometimes you gotta bend the law to get results. You said it yourself, 'you gotta make 'em scream a little'."

"Scream? Sure. Bend? Absolutely. But killing a suspect in custody?" Bailey snorted. "That's beyond the pale."

"Well then we should be thankful you were never in a position like that," Antony rubbed his eyes. "Look, Commander..."

"Captain," Bailey poured out a mug of coffee. He slid it over the desk to Shepard. "I got hired about eight months ago. They were so damn happy to get me they promoted me immediately."

"You deserve it, you were a good cop." Shepard gratefully sipped the scalding liquid. "I was dead. I'm pretty damn sure of it. I got brought back. Don't ask me how or why. I just did."

"I believe you." It was true. The full-of-himself Staff Lieutenant wasn't sitting in front of him. A tired, pale, dangerously thin, miserable man was in his place. And those red scars were also slightly freaky. "If only because that's too idiotic to be a lie."

"I need to get up to the Presidium. To do that, I need my ID back." And about twenty four hours sleep, plus a five star meal, he added to himself.

"I'll see what I can do," Bailey flicked his terminal on. "You got credits."

"Two hundred," Shepard lifted his omni-tool. "Why? You need a bribe?"

"C-Sec pays pretty good at my level," Bailey dryly turned down the offer. "No, I was just thinking you might want to speak with the taxation office. Spending a few years dead is a popular tax fraud."

"One hell of a deductible," Shepard remembered the weapons he'd had Ashley catalogue. The high-level gear he and Tali had stripped off the geth and sold to the Alliance as salvage had brought in several hefty bounties. It'd been enough to keep Wrex paid and the ship fuelled. "Don't know if I'd want to do it twice."

"Probably not," Bailey chuckled. "All right. I think I can cut through the red tape and get your basic ID sorted out. Our scanners got a couple of hundred upgrades since the geth attack. They state that while there's a shitload of cybernetics in your system, and you've got synthetic skin patches all over the place, your basic and advanced DNA and RNA codes are the same. Your brain waves are also compatible with previous scans. You're definitely you."

"Good to hear." _From a group other than Cerberus._

"The bad news is a basic ID won't get you past security on the Presidium." It was a semi-apology. "You walk up to the checkpoint in armour, carrying a pistol, and Tactical Assault Group is liable to shoot you now and ask questions later."

"Can you fix it?"

"I've got a partner on the guard up there," Bailey closed the terminal. "If you surrender your weapon, I can ask him to escort you to the Embassy."

"What's the catch?" There was always a catch. Nothing came free, Antony had learned that much. Even his get-out-of-jail cards from Alliance Command had come with price tags.

"I want the truth," Bailey had the smug attitude of a man holding a higher card. "Did you kill those turians on the _Valpariso_?"

Shepard stared at him. "Seriously? All the things you could ask me for? Like an honest, heartfelt apology for screwing your career?"

"Would you mean it?"

"No."

"Then I'll have to settle for the truth."

Antony rested his elbows on his leg plates. "We needed that intel. People were going to die. I did what had to be done."

"So that's a yes?" Bailey pressed.

Shepard nodded. Bailey took a sip from his own coffee mug.

"That's all I needed to hear." He handed Shepard an OSD. "Give that to Captain Roth on the Presidium and turn over your handgun to him. He'll take you up to the Embassy. "

"Thanks Captain," Shepard stood. "And...sorry...for everything."

"You're not," Bailey turned his attention back to his reports. "But thanks for the gesture."

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**A/N: History Presentation and Write Up? Done. 2000 word Philosophy Essay? Done. 1500 word Theology Essay? Done. 1500 word Literature essay? Nearly done. Three more weeks and First semester is OVER! Should be able to update on a more regular basis after that.**


	13. The Older the Friend, The Worse the Enem

Changing Fate

Chapter Thirteen: The Older the Friend, the Worse the Enemy

I don't own Bioware

**ALLIANCE EMBASSY**

**PRESIDIUM, CITADEL**

**2185**

He should have taken the offer for early retirement. Just accepted the damn severance package and gone back to Earth to enjoy his old age. Maybe his wife wouldn't have divorced him? Maybe his kids would still be talking to him? Maybe his golfing average would still be under par? Or maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be feeling like an old man. He'd be his birthday soon...bloody hell...was he really almost that old? It felt like longer.

"Good work Commander," Councillor Anderson nodded to the holographic representation of Staff Commander Alenko. "Text book strike."

"The mission was a failure sir," Kaidan was standing at rigid attention in the _Ain Jalut's_ comms room. "We retrieved only three of our POWs. If we had made our strike a few days earlier..."

"Could have, should have, might have, didn't," Anderson straightened his tie. "You did good work Alenko. Come on home."

Three other figures had been linked in on the comms loop. Councillor Velarn, Councillor Tevos, and Councillor...actually Anderson didn't even want to try and pronounce the salarian's name. Velarn was nodding thoughtfully, the turian was a former military man, doubtlessly impressed by the precision of the strike.

"Not taking prisoners was a wise move Commander," Velarn spoke with a note of respect in his voice. "A covert operation on this scale would just be...embarrassing...to all involved. We are in agreement that this demonstrates your suitability to enter the next stage of your evaluation for Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. On your next deployment, we will be assigning an experienced Spectre to accompany you."

"Yes sir, there's nothing I'd like better sir."

Anderson knew that humans couldn't hear every tone of inflection in the turian vocal range. Turians on the other hand, could pick up every subtle pitch change in the human voice. But Anderson doubted that even Velarn would recognise the contempt in Kaidan's voice. The biotic knew how to conceal his emotions better than any soldier Anderson had ever met. But the way he could sound completely respectful, and still sound like he was inviting the Councillor to go and jump...

"Logging out now sir, I'll see you at the Citadel in three days," Kaidan's image disappeared. Anderson privately sighed. That boy needed a break, a long one. A chance to take his fiancé back to Vancouver and introduce her to his family.

"_He'll get it," _Anderson's conscience tried to soothe itself. _"Just as soon as we figure out what the hell is happening to our colonies."_

"Turning to the matter of disappearing human colonies," Tevos sounded worried. "Your last one, Freedom's Progress. It was well outside of known slaver territory. They are not usually so bold."

"ONI doesn't think it's slavers," Anderson disagreed. "The attacks just don't fit the pattern. Slavers are sloppy. They attack, they kill, they plunder, and then carry off whoever's left alive. They leave burning buildings and piles of bodies in the streets."

"STG concurs with this theory," the Salarian Councillor nodded. "The attacks show preparation. Cunning. Precision. Not to be expected in batarians."

"Of course the STG would agree," Velarn sniffed. "They steal most of their data on the Terminus Systems from ONI."

"Maybe we need to consider..." Anderson was cut off by the door to the Embassy opening. Two men stood in the doorway. He spun towards them. "I said this was to be a private meeting!"

"My apologies sir." A tanned C-Sec Lieutenant gestured to the man behind him. "But this man insisted on seeing you. Considering who he is...I thought I'd better let him in."

Standing in the doorway, dressed in the latest N7 hardsuit from Aldrin Labs, with a tired smile on his lips, red scars on his face and a head devoid of his usual shaggy brown curls, was Lieutenant Commander Antony B. Shepard. N7, first human Spectre, Commander of the Normandy-SR1, Star of Terra, Citadel Medal of Service, and KIA 2183.

"Good morning sir," Shepard snapped to attention. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Those last few slugs of vodka the night before didn't seem like such a good idea to Anderson now.

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**ZAKEERA WARD**

**ALDRIN LABS**

**LEVEL TWENTY FOUR**

"So this is the new Mark X," Miranda admired herself in the mirror of the changing room. "I like it. So handsome, give the rundown."

"Ma'am?" The nervous store clerk stuttered uncomfortably. Miranda had been worried that her skinny frame and...alternate hairstyle, would be an unaffordable handicap. She took a small pleasure in knowing that even at her worst, she could still get guys hot and bothered without really trying.

"Yeah you heard me," Miranda ran her hands down the side of the sleek Infiltration Suit. "Convince me to pay out the ridiculous sum of credits your boss is asking for this piece of hardware."

"Well," the freckle faced kid swallowed. "It's got a whole range of improved features from the last model you purchased from us, the Mark VIII. Upgraded stealth systems give you an extra ten minutes of charge on the cloaking device. The armour plates are slightly thicker, but also lighter. For an extra ten-thousand credits, we can install a rotating phase modulator on your shield generator. It alters the harmonics of your emitters every micro-second in order to block Disruptor Rounds. Uh..."

"Say no more," Miranda reached for the zipper. "I'll take it. Is the rest of my gear ready to go?"

"Flashbangs, smoke bombs, two M-4 Shruikens with silencers, a Hetikass V omni tool with overload and shield drain programs already oboard. Per your request, we've installed military grade plasma jets on the underside," the clerk pulled at his collar. "Ma'am, you do know that most of this stuff is not exactly...approved of. We have a standing request that our clients please don't use their products on the Citadel."

"Relax Chuck," Miranda read the guy's nametag. He was cute, if you liked the nerdish sort. "If I was going to kill someone on the Citadel, I would have bought my gear on Illium."

"Oh...well...have a nice day?" He offered feebly as Miranda finished transferring the credits to the store and stalked out.

It was a perverse thrill, spending large amounts of Cerberus cash on anything she wanted, both essential and non-essential. In two weeks, her hair would be long enough that it would be worth hitting up the salon and massage parlour a few levels up. Easiest money she had ever made, and so many things to spend it on.

But there was one item in particular, one that she really couldn't go much longer without. It was going to be doubly necessary to have a steady supply handy if she was going to be using her biotics a lot.

It was time to hit up the local black market.

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"Why is it that whenever I actually _want_ to come someplace, the people there are never happy to see me?" Shepard looked around in amazement at the blank looks Anderson and the rest of the Council were giving him. "Well...apart from the strippers at Chora's Den. Although they always seemed a bit nervous after I shot up the place looking for Fist."

"You're dead." Anderson informed him. The Councillor seemed to be taking it rather well. Though in this case, "rather well" meant looking like a sniper about to crack and sprint one mile to beat his target to death with the butt of his rifle.

"Thanks for breaking it to me gently." Shepard leant against the doorframe.

"Dead and disintegrated." Anderson's tone was still unbreakably polite. "No way you could have survived."

"None at all. Burned into a charred hulk during my drop into atmosphere. Although I'm pretty sure I died of suffocation before then," Shepard paused. "At least...I _think_ I suffocated. Not really sure, can't remember much."

Another thought struck him. "Hey, where's Joker? I owe him a beating for getting me spaced."

"So why?" Anderson continued, undeterred. "Why are you standing in my office, looking like something from a cheap horror flick?"

"Alright, let's put it like this," Antony pushed off the door and strode over to Anderson's desk. Retrieving the padded chair, he sank into it with a sigh of comfort. "I was brought back to life. Cybernetic implants, a little bit of cloned tissue, probably a shitload of medi-gel."

"That's impossible." Anderson patiently explained.

"I know. And get this. The group was Cerberus," Antony was hoping to get past the awkward part quickly. "Freaky, I know. Turns out they have some good intentions after all. Met the boss of the whole thing, The Illusive Man."

"That is also impossible. We killed him at New Tripoli." Anderson was still calm and growing calmer.

"That's what I thought," Antony selected a bottle of random liquor from the few on Anderson's desk and took a swig. "I also found out who is attacking human colonies."

"Even if the rest was true, which it isn't, that last point would definitely be impossible." Anderson ignored the other councillors. Truth be told, he was ignoring everything but the face of the man in front of him. Intercepted Cerberus transcripts that hadn't meant shit at the time were blaring through his head.

"You keep using that word," Antony frowned. "I do not think it means what you think it means. I'm really not dead, I really did meet the Illusive Man, and I really do know who is attacking human colonies."

"Who?"

"The Collectors. And they're working with the Reapers."

"Alright, now that bullshit...actually makes sense," Anderson slowed down. "What proof do you have?"

"Camera footage taken from Freedom's Progress. Confirmed by me, Cerberus and the Quarian Migrant Fleet. You can examine the original files for yourself to determine their accuracy. They're releasing some kind of paralytic agent on the colonies to neutralise any possible resistance," Antony propped his legs up on Anderson's desk.

Anderson pushed them off again. "And the Reaper angle?"

"Ah yes 'Reapers'," Councillor Velarn finally managed to interrupt. "The mysterious race of sentient machines waiting in dark space. We have dismissed this claim."

Shepard leaned to the right, looking past Anderson at the figures of the Councillors. "You still there? I figured you at least would have been removed. Didn't realise the Hierarchy tolerated incompetence in its representatives."

"Incompetence...why you..."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," Shepard smirked. "But didn't you advocate Saren's promotion to the Spectres?"

"Well, yes. But how could I have..."

"And," Shepard spoke over the top of him. "Didn't you ignore all potential evidence about his treachery until it was almost too late? As well as ignoring my warnings about his attack on the Citadel via Ilos?"

"Your point?" Velarn seemed cowed by Shepard's quiet assault.

"My point," Shepard's lips drew back in a slight sneer. "Is that any interest I had in what a half evolved dinosaur had to say, died along with Service Chief Kowalski."

"Who was he?" Tevos broke her silence.

"Kowalski? A nobody. A ten year Service Chief serving as an engineering specialist aboard the SSV _Warsaw_." Antony's sneer didn't fade. "Unremarkable in almost every way. Except he stayed at his station when everyone else abandoned ship...and he died there. His wife was a fighter jockey from the _Einstein_. She died five minutes after he did. Torpedo run on Sovereign. There left behind four kids, orphans now. So the next time you speak, Councillor Velarn, remember that I sacrificed men like Kowalski to save your tattooed hide."

"Andy..." Anderson growled warningly. "Time and a place." _For your racism._

"My apologies," Shepard took another swig of Anderson's vodka. "Don't have anything connecting Collectors to Reapers...yet."

"Gut feeling?" Anderson hazarded a guess.

"Pulsating strong," Shepard confirmed. "But let's take it down a few notches. Let's say for a moment that the Reaper's don't exist, and it's just the Collectors acting on their own. What would be the standard Council reaction?"

"We'd impose immediate sanctions against the Collectors," Councillor Tevos spoke immediately, the stately asari filling in the role usually taken by the fuming Councillor Velarn. "Followed by an immediate covert investigations action by the STG, with the possibility of Spectre involvement. Discretely funding, training and equipping local militia would probably solve the problem over time. But if they're paralysing the populations first..."

"Then all the guns in the world wouldn't do them any good," Antony didn't dislike the Asari Councillor quite as intensely as he hated Velarn. "I think we can all appreciate the problem, and the solution. Reinstate my Spectre status, give me a ship, a crew and a ground team, enough funding to get the job done, and I'll sort this thing out myself."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Tevos frowned. "There's no protocol regarding Spectre's dying and coming back from the grave. There are plenty for those who fake their 'deaths' though."

Anderson suddenly looked hopeful. "Are you sure you didn't just fake your death and go undercover for two years? Or get yourself frozen in cryo?"

"Pretty sure," Antony looked back at Tevos. "Look, ma'am. You've always been straight with me. Just tell me the truth. Can I expect _any_ help from the Council?"

"I know that your Spectre status can be easily restored," the Salarian Councillor pointed out. "But without at least several months of testing and interrogation, to make sure you haven't been turned, to make sure you're not a sleeper agent...we are forbidden by law to provide you with the means to conduct direct action against the Collectors."

"The Alliance could get you a ship, maybe even a crew...but a team good enough to take on an entire species and win?" Anderson shook his head. "Can't be done. Not enough men. It took me three months to assemble enough N7's for a surgical strike into batarian territory. I don't have the clout to pull it off again."

Shepard froze with disbelief. "Are you telling me that you'd _like_ to help, but you can't?"

"That's exactly what we're saying."

"But what about..."

"Our fleets?" Anderson laughed. "Spread so thin that a butter knife could cut through them."

"Conventional forces?"

"Most of our best united are on stand down periods following mop-up operations in the Armstrong Cluster. I could put together a Frontier Division for you in two weeks, provided General Moseby agrees."

"A division is too bulky," Antony got off his chair. "This needs to be kept as small as possible."

"This really couldn't come at a worse time," Tevos massaged her temple. "The rebuilding of our fleets, the batarians becoming aggressive, this new incident with Purgatory..."

"Yeah, about that," Shepard flinched. "I might have had something to do with that. Let me start at the beginning."

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"You know, we normally don't get many requests for product this good," the asari held up the item Miranda was after. Twelve vials were contained inside the vacuum sealed glass case. "This stuff is even more pure than what you get on Thessia."

"Not many people have my tastes, or my wallet," Miranda made sure to stay in the shadows. You never knew where the cameras were, it was better to stay out of sight. "Did you cut it like I requested?"

"Sure did," the asari took pride in what she sold. "Oxo-prophenyne to ease up the strain on your nervous system. Mezzo-sophias to block out the drain on your metabolism. Half of them have military grade stims to keep you going, the other half have some medicinal Vesalius to get you feeling nice and relaxed."

"And the last one?"

"Fabrica?" The asari shrugged. "I included it, but I don't know how well it'll work. It's supposed to prevent fatal addiction, but it's only a prototype."

"Doesn't matter, I'll take it," Miranda lit up her omni-tool. "Four hundred thousand credits, as agreed."

"A lot more than you'd pay for standard red sand," the dealer leaned closer, looking curious. "I kind of feel like I'm ripping you off."

"Trust me, this suits my needs exactly," Miranda turned away. "Have a nice day."

Her body was aching for the product in the murky red vials, begging for something it had gone without for so long. She was ashamed of the habit, but she just couldn't give it up. Not when it boosted her powers, and blocked out the memories. She'd give it up one day, she was strong enough to beat the habit, but she needed it right now.

Once she was deep enough in the alleyway, Miranda reached into her pocket and retrieved a self-sterilizing injector. Checking to make sure she was alone, she retrieved one of the vials and clipped it into the bottom of the injector. Tapping it a few times to burst any air-bubbles in the mix, she drew back her sleeve and felt around for the vein. Just a few seconds and she'd be feeling just right...

A hand gripped her arm, another slapped her across the face, a knee struck her in the stomach and a leg hooked under knee, sending her crashing to the ground. Miranda hadn't seen any of it. There was only one explanation.

"Kasumi," Miranda struggled against the person pressing her into the ground. "Whatever you think, I swear..."

"Hey Randa," the Master Thief's cheerful voice had an edge of pure hatred to it. "Long time no see hey? Of course, since you've been living it large across the galaxy, making everyone think you were tucked away on Purgatory, me meeting you was a bit unlikely. Hock must have paid you a lot, huh?"

"No," Miranda bucked violently. "No, I swear. It was the Suns, they took me by surprise. They found stuff in the apartment, they sold it to Hock."

"I don't believe you," Kasumi held a knife to Miranda's throat. "No one takes you by surprise."

"You did."

"Ah," Kasumi grinned. "But I taught you everything you know...you manipulative little whore. We were your family, we took you in. I should have left you to die on that batarian freighter. Time to remedy that mistake."

" 'Sumi...please..." Miranda gasped. "I didn't. I would have rather died. Keji was like my brother...you were my sister...I wouldn't have betrayed you for anything."

"Then how do you explain your little spending spree?" The knife was cutting her creamy skin. "High tech gear, plus some fixes for your little 'habit'."

"I got busted out of Purgatory by Cerberus," Miranda felt a trickle of blood running down the side of her neck. The rough grating was bruising her face. "They hired me for a job. They're paying my fee."

"Liar," Kasumi's voice was merciless. Miranda was reminded just how ruthless her old partner could be if someone hurt the people she cared about. "You hate Cerberus. They ruined your life. You said you'd never let Cerberus come near you."

"I didn't have a lot of options," Miranda grunted. "I adapted to the situation. Purgatory was falling to pieces around me."

"You. Are. Lying!" Kasumi suppressed a sob. "He smashed Keji's head open Randa. Smashed it open and cut into his brain to find his grey box."

"I'm sorry," Miranda pleaded. "I didn't sell you out. I was...I was sand blasted when they got me. I took a hit after I woke up. Then this guy knocks on the door and tells me that you sent him to give me a massage. The sand was messing with my head...I felt secure...I let my guard down."

"Your addiction got Keji killed," Kasumi lifted the knife up. "I told you a thousand times to break the habit...you just never listened."

" 'Sumi. You don't wanna do this...this won't bring Keji back..."

"No," she lowered the weapon. "He wouldn't. Oh shit...Miranda...I'm sorry...I..."

Before Kasumi could finish, something hit on the back of the head. She fell on top of Miranda, darkness claiming her.

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"What the fuck did you do that for?" Miranda had one of her pistols out and pointing at Zaeed. The Cerberus merc shrugged.

"You're welcome miss."

"She wasn't going to kill me." Holstering the sidearm, Miranda checked Kasumi's pulse. Still going strong.

"Didn't look that way to me," Zaeed flexed his fingers. "Besides, that was just a knock out chop, not a killer. Figured you two knew each other."

"We did," Miranda flipped Kasumi over. "Come on, we can't leave her here. Help me get her to a med-clinic."

"No bloody fear," Zaeed laughed. "They'll scan her ID and turn her over to C-Sec. Even if she's got a damn good fake, I'll still get busted for assault. We can take her back to the ship, we've got a med-bay there."

"We're only staying long enough to make sure she's alright," Miranda shot back. "And why were you even following me?"

"Miss Harper felt that someone should keep an eye on you, just in case you got in trouble."

"I don't need any of that bitch's lackeys spying on me," Miranda warned him.

"Tell you what. When you start paying me more than she does, I'll start following your orders."

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"...which ended with my narrow escape," Shepard finished his explanation. He had avoided mentioning that Harper was the Illusive Man's daughter. They might do something stupid, like try to arrest her. That wouldn't work well for anyone involved.

Tevos sighed. "Well, it's not and bad as it might be. The Council's stance toward that ship was one of disapproval. It was a glorified slaving front."

"Exactly what I said," Antony inhaled deeply. It was getting onto lunch time now, the smells of the exotic restaurants starting up were tantalising. He really needed that food. "So...what happens now? You say you can't give me any backup, which I translate as meaning you're broke and out of favours you can call in with your individual militaries. And _that_ translates to me being shit out of luck. My options are getting limited."

"A Spectre would think outside the box," the Salarian Councillor suggested. "While the existence of the Reapers is a matter which our esteemed colleague holds in doubt, the matter of the Collector's assaulting human colonies needs to be addressed. For a short period, we would be willing to reinstate your Spectre status, with as much support as we can provide, and authorise direct action. The rest would be up to you."

"So I'm on my own?" Shepard felt like screaming. "Well, I guess I'll take what I can get. Thank you sir, ma'am. And Velarn?"

"That's Councillor Velarn to you Shepard."

"My apologies Councillor Velarn. Fuck you buddy. Just...fuck you. That's all I have to say."

Anderson cut the link before the indignant turian could respond. "Well. That went as well as it could have. You know, considering you died."

"Yes sir," Antony sighed. "I think we've covered that. What the fuck am I going to do?"

"You could wait three months to put together a team," Anderson shook his head. "But I don't think either of us finds that acceptable."

"Nope," Shepard agreed. The two men sat in silence for about two minutes. Finally, Antony looked up. "I think I've got an idea."

"Is it similar to what I'm thinking?"

"Are you thinking I need to accept The Illusive Man's help?"

"It's a distasteful solution." Anderson admitted. "Once he's got his hooks into you...I doubt he'll let you go."

"I sense a 'but' in there."

"But, he's the only one with the resources to win this fight," the human Councillor frowned. "Rule Number Six of Covert Operations?"

"If the devil offers you what you want most, then dance with the devil," Shepard quoted. "Fuck. Will you at least buy me lunch first?"

"Go ask your new boss for lunch money," Anderson crossed his arms. "My job doesn't pay shit."

"Gee, I have to go work with a terrorist organisation, and that's all the thanks I get," Antony grumbled, then walked toward the door. It opened as he approached it. "By the way, how did you realise I was me, and not some impostor?"

"Anderson, we need to talk. I..." Ambassador Udina stormed in, stopped and stared at Shepard in surprise. "Shepard?"

Shepard slugged him in the jaw. "Udina." He turned back to Anderson, still expecting an answer.

"Any doubts I had have now been completely assuaged," Anderson reassured him sarcastically.

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**A/N: Just got back from seeing X-Men: First Class. It. Was. EPIC! James McAvoy being a debonair Charles Xavier, Michael Fassbender being an angsty Magneto (I now want him to play Kaidan if they ever do a Mass Effect movie), three epic cameos from the Badass Colonel from Transformers, and Michael Ironside (Sam Fisher). The final one from Hugh Jackman, telling James McAvoy to get F***ed made the film an instant classic. Great writing, great casting, terrific stunts, explosions and brilliant storyline. **

**Expect to see homage references in the next few chapters.**


	14. A Good Team

Changing Fate

Chapter Fourteen: A Good Team

I don't own Bioware

**THE LINUX**

**ZAKEERA WARD**

**CITADEL**

"This really is exquisite," Jack took another delicate bite of the spiced drillian lizard. The salarian dish had been prepared amazingly well by the turian chef. "I had heard that this was the best place for food on Zakeera Ward, I didn't believe the rumours."

"You heard wrong," Linux, the owner and operator, puffed out his chest. "This is the best place for food on the whole Citadel. Would you care for nice Eaglehawk Chiraz to go with your meal? The red wine offsets the flavour wonderfully."

"No thank you, I have a business meeting in a few minutes, I want to be sober for it," Jack smiled politely. "Could I order a steak for my friend? Medium rare, with baked potatoes and the appropriate vegetables. And make the order extra large."

"Your friend's a hungry one," Linux scuttled back toward the kitchen.

"Should be just about starving by the time he gets here," Jack murmured to herself as she scrolled through the desert menu. The baked New York cheesecake looked particularly appetizing.

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**HELIAT CROSS-FITNESS GYM**

**DUNSINANE CITY**

**BEKENSTEIN**

"So Mr. Taylor," Donovan Hock grunted as he lifted the hundred kilogram weight back on to the rack. "You are here with a business proposition for me, yes?"

"I wouldn't bother wasting your time with anything else," the other man replied casually. Jacob had just come off the running track, he was sweating, but not too badly. A three mile run to keep his leg muscles firmed up. He launched into star jumps next, a light two hundred. He couldn't afford to exhaust himself and slip up.

"I appreciate you keeping this casual," the crime boss slipped onto the leg lift machine. "So many fucking people waste my days in offices. I prefer it when I can save some time."

"I know how that feels," Jacob agreed. _Do you sign execution orders while you're banging that pretty little asari from the escort service? Just to save time?_ "I also appreciate that you didn't tell your bodyguards to kick my ass and throw me out."

"If a man wants to see me as bad as you do, I say congratulations to him," Hock shrugged. "You only have till I finish my work-out Taylor. I suggest you get cracking."

"Of course," Jacob was silent for a few seconds as he finished off his star jumps. "As I tried telling you the other day, I'm interested in securing a contract between Hock Industries and Displace Intergalactic. I started Displace myself a year ago. We're made up of former members of the Alliance Marines, United North American States Special Forces, and Australia-Pacific Commonwealth troopers. All told, about a hundred good men and women."

"Yes, I've heard of them," Hock finished his leg lifts. He picked up a set of boxing gloves. "Care to join me in the ring Mr. Taylor?"

"I'm a bit worried about personal injury."

"Man like you, been around the block a few times. What are you worried about?"

_Apart from snapping your neck? _"It's my left side," Jacob gestured to his eyepatch. "Can't see shit, I try to avoid going out in the field nowadays."

"One round," Hock indicated the ring. "Or else we have nothing to talk about."

"Well, if you insist," Jacob pulled on the black gloves. "Just one round."

He wasn't particularly worried about Hock hurting him. The South African was fairly well built, the type of body you would expect from a man who took his health seriously. Hock ran five miles every morning and did cardio, weights and boxing every evening. His twelve years of military service with the African Republic had been unremarkable, but he had acquired a taste for power, the power that came with a command position. It had been almost natural that he had gone into the private sector after the African Republic had done a major Reduction In Force (RIF).

Hock had been a senior consultant at Elanus Risk Control Services for three years, but ERCS had sacked him when they discovered he was taking bribes to sub-contract out ERCS mercs for assassination jobs. It didn't matter much to Hock, he had taken his small personal fortune and founded his own Private Military Corporation. With a reputation for taking dirty jobs firmly established, Hock had quickly grown rich.

He had taken on all the trappings of the classic bourgeois. Expensive cars, a small army of highly trained bodyguards, a palatial mansion, and a private membership at the most exclusive gym on the planet. Hock's build was typical of a man who worked out for pleasure, but who hadn't done a day's worth of hard labour in his life.

Jacob however, trained for combat rather than fitness. He had been the head jock back in high school. Captain of the football, skyball and basketball teams, he had always possessed a rare build, heavy and brawny, but still super fast on his feet. A dozen colleges had offered him phys-ed scholarships, Jacob had turned them all down in favour of Officer Candidate School. But he had never lost his passion for sport, something that had served him well the competitive team mind set of the Marine Corps.

If it was a real fight, Jacob could have snapped Hock like a twig. For every weight that the criminal could lift, Jacob could lift one twice as heavy and for twice as long. But that wasn't the mission. The mission was to gain Hock's trust, so that's what he was going to do.

"You'll understand my reluctance of course," Hock threw the first few punches. Light feelers, searching for Jacob's response. Jacob didn't bite, just kept his guard up. "I don't have a very cordial relationship with the Alliance."

"Me neither, I quit, remember?" Jacob began with a hook that sent Hock's glove flying back into his face. The look of surprise on the other man's face was priceless. "Too much red tape. I'd rather get out and get straight to the job."

"That's the thing," Hock agreed, his punches coming with a little more force. "It's become so bogged down, it's practically useless. I think a clean slate is in order."

"You know a way to bring that about?" Jacob enquired innocently.

"Perhaps," Hock's voice was guarded but his jabs were coming in with a quiet fury that shocked Jacob. Chambers had done the psych profile on his target. She said that 'Donny Boy' wasn't a man who liked to be bested at anything. Gambling, driving, shooting, fighting, he was a bully and braggart, and like all braggarts, he needed to prove his dominance. "But that's really none of your concern. This universe isn't black and white Mr. Taylor. The Alliance isn't willing to go into the grey."

"There are dirty jobs and there are clean ones," Jacob countered. "Men like you and me, we can handle the dirty ones. Let the Alliance take care of the clean ones for us. We're the ones that make the galaxy go round."

Hock threw one last punch. Jacob allowed his guard to drop, letting the hook strike him solidly on the jaw. There was a glimmer of satisfaction in Hock's eyes. Jacob was slightly amused at the man's bravado. _You think you win because I let you have one punch? Fine. Just react the way Chamber's said you would._

"You've got some good ideas Mr. Taylor," Hock pulled off his gloves. "I'm having a little party in a few weeks at my place. Why don't you come along? We'll talk more over drinks."

"Sounds great, I'll wear my best bow tie," Jacob smiled politely right up until Hock walked through the door to the showers. "And I'll bring my sharpest knife."

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**OMEGA**

**BALA HISAR SLUMS**

**ARCHANGEL'S SAFEHOUSE**

_Heatsink goes in next to the mass driver turbines._

"Hey Garrus? You up there?"

_Ammo block clips in just above them, right next to particle accelerator._

"Garrus, if you're not going to answer me, at least say so."

_Align the new barrel...almost there...almost...got it. Calibrations next. Have to zero it before tomorrow._

"Hey," Sidonis came in the door of the bunk room. "What's up?"

"I was trying," Garrus frowned. "To swap out the barrel on my rifle."

"Cool," the younger turian perched himself on the couch. "Listen, I got a job I need some help with."

"Did Sam check it out first?" Garrus didn't raise his head, just worked the barrel slightly to the right. He couldn't afford to get this wrong.

"Nah, this is a private job," Sidonis shook his head. "Don't get me wrong. I like Butler fine. But one of my clan got himself into some bad debt with a loan shark near the Central Hub. The hanar's threatening to have him tossed into the plague zone."

"And why come to me?" Garrus' patience was wearing thin. "In case you haven't noticed, this is a very delicate procedure. If you don't want to take Butler, ask Melanis, she's turian."

"Yeah, but she's a bareface," Sidonis snorted. "Good...no, great in a shotgun fight, but she doesn't know shit about family. Come on 'Archangel', the guy's my cousin."

"Go scout it out." Satisfied with the alignment, Garrus lifted his omni tool and began to seal it in. He wasn't an armourer by trade, that job had always gone to the Armoury Sergeant back in his military days. Chief Williams had taken care of swapping out the barrel of his Volkov back on the Normandy. It only needed to be done every six months, once the metal started warping from use. Garrus had learned the hard way: Do it yourself...or die. "Find a good perch, with plenty of cover, I'll be with you in an hour."

"Thanks boss," Sidonis practically bolted out of the room. "You won't regret this.

Grundan Krul, the team's only krogan, rolled over in his bunk. "Somebody," he proclaimed sleepily. "Has gotta nail that guy's feet to the floor."

"He's a good kid," Garrus began slipping the scope back into place. "He'll learn."

"But will he learn in time for me to get a good night's sleep?" Krul grunted, pushing himself off the bunk and onto the floor. "What are the battle plans for tomorrow?"

"Send Butler, Weaver and Monteague into the plague zone. They'll make contact with Doctor Solus and make an offer of assistance." Garrus poured a glass of ryncol for his friend. "We can't risk anyone else going in. Not with the mortality rates against non-humans."

"Understood." At three hundred years of age, Krul was a relatively young krogan. He lacked a lot of Wrex's skills, but also much of the Battlemaster's cynicism. Solid and dependable. Garrus planned on having Krul with him the next time he took on Garm, the leader of Omega's chapter of the Blood Pack. "You know something turian? I think we have a chance. A real chance."

"MONTEAGUE!" Garrus could hear Vortash roaring. "YOU CAN GIVE MY COPY OF FORNAX BACK NOW, OR I'LL RIP IT FROM YOUR CORPSE. EITHER WAY, I WIN!"

"Maybe," Garrus collapsed his newly adjusted rifle. "If those two don't kill each other over the latest asari-on-human action."

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**PLAGUE ZONE**

**OMEGA**

**FREE CLINIC**

"Gentlemen," Mordin greeted the assorted group of mercs outside the door of the clinic. "Believe we have covered this before. Will not pay protection money that I do not owe, for protection that I do not need. Suggest you 'scram' before I am forced to deal with you."

"Come on doc," the turian leader grinned with false politeness. "Vorcha are closing in. Won't be long till they overrun the whole zone. You need my protection. Heard you were working on a cure too. We can help distribute it."

"You mean withhold it from the sick until they pay you for it?" Mordin sniffed. "I have no need for your protection and no credits to pay you. Have pharmaceuticals and medi-gel in limited supplies, nothing else."

"I'd seriously advise you to reconsider," the turian reached for the pistol at his waist. "Otherwise..."

"Come on Yis," a grey haired human muttered behind the turian. "He don't got anything worth nicking."

"Last I checked Flannigan, I was the boss here," the turian sneered. "Fall in line."

"There's an ancient Irish proverb Yis," Flannigan shot back. "It says 'Go Fuck Yourself!'"

"You should listen to him," Mordin gestured to the mechs. "Before you force me to do something that I will not regret."

"I'll be damned if a fucking salarian's gonna threaten me," one of the batarian's coughed violently. He cocked his rifle with a shaking hand.

"Plague destroying your immune system," Mordin squinted critically at the merc. "Could help you. If you put the guns away that is."

"How about we just kill you and take the cure anyway?" Yis snarled as he raised his pistol. "Blow this fucker away."

"I told you no!" Flannigan lunged forward, pushing Yis' arm aside. The Carnifex went off with a loud crack, the bullet digging into the wall above Mordin's head.

"You're not dying of the fucking plague human!" Yis turned to face him, wrenching his arm away.

"He's willing to help you for free," Flannigan pointed out.

"You've gone soft Flannigan," the second turian snorted.

"Not soft, just logical."

"Well go be logical in hell," Yis lifted his Carnifex, pressed it against the human's chest and pulled the trigger. Flannigan was hurled back by the force of the gunshot, an expression of surprise appearing on his face. He hit the wall and slumped down.

"You...you shot me..." Flannigan stared at the turian in amazement. "Over one fucking salarian."

Yis seemed stunned by his own actions. He coughed violently."You shouldn't have pushed me."

"And you should have left," Mordin's tone was flat. Yis twisted and attempted to fire, but was already too late. Mordin shot three times, one handed, from the hip. Each bullet took one of the mercs straight through the head. The only thing heard after the echo of his M-3 faded was the sound of three sets of armour hitting the ground. "Foolish. Would have given cure if you asked. Should not have pressed me for money I do not possess."

"Goddamn," Flannigan coughed up blood. "Never seen a doctor shoot like that."

Mordin squatted next to him. "They thought me harmless. They were wrong. Appreciate your intervention. Am...sorry. For your injuries I mean."

"Don't worry about them," Flannigan's eyes lost focus. "It's just my time. Thought I should step up to the plate, you know? Seems a lifetime ago my recruiter was telling me how I could help protect those who needed help if I joined the Alliance. It was all bullshit, but I thought...just for once, I might actually live up to that promise."

"I understand," Mordin grimaced. "Your wounds are fatal. Bullet was poisoned. Your heart and lungs are already compromised. Is there anything you would like me to do for you?"

"Do for me?" Flannigan laughed harshly, then groaned as a new wave of pain hit him. "You don't even know me! I'm the washed up merc who was ready to bash you into the ground ten minutes ago for a few fucking creds! Get back to your patients Doc, I'm not worth your time."

"My conscience is not clean either," Mordin sat next to him. "Many things I would have done differently. I will stay with you."

"Why?"

"Because I hope someone will be so kind as to do the same for me," Mordin administered a painkiller. "Now, are you sure there is nothing you would like? Have alcohol in the clinic. Could pray with you if you prefer?"

"Nah," Flannigan's face became peaceful. "I lived my life. Not always the best way, but I'll 'ave to deal with that. Doubt any kind of deity'd be very merciful to me."

"It sometimes seems that way," Mordin contemplated the bodies of the other mercs. What to do with them? Too barbaric to leave them for the vorcha. Maybe they could be useful another way.

"Say," the old human paused. "You wouldn't happen to know 'Garry Owen' would you?"

Mordin chuckled. The image of a human professor on the Citadel, getting wildly smashed on half a pint of salarian brandy sprang to mind. That song was permanently etched into his memory. It had been a good night, a fine celebration of a successful...and incredibly difficult...genetic manipulation thesis, that had netted him his sixth doctorate. A good time, a better time, before the guilt...

"_Let Bacchus' sons be not dismayed,"_ he crooned. _"But join with me each jovial blade. Come drink with me, we'll booze and sing, and then join in the chorus."_

Flannigan closed his eyes, contentedly humming along. Mordin had observed something about humans. Sometimes, great patriotic ballads did nothing to arouse their fighting spirit. But a pleasant little ditty like this? A song of drinking, or a song of a woman, or 'saints going marching', served to remind them of things in their past. It heated their blood and made them fight...or eased their passing.

"_Our hearts so stout have won us fame." _His omni-tool had already calculated how long the man had left to live. The digits ticked down with unforgiving accuracy. _"For soon 'tis known from whence we came. Where e'er we go, they dread the name. Of Garry Owen in glory."_

Flannigan's head rested against the wall, and his last breath came up from his lungs in a death rattle of carbon dioxide. Mordin checked his pulse as a formality. Another one he had failed to save.

"I am sorry," he stood up. "In another life my friend. Will do better next time."

Mordin paused, looking at the four bodies. Perhaps an example could be made of this? "Kurt, you can come out now."

The human appeared from the clinic, still clutching his shotgun. Fine lad. Energetic. Willing to fight for something bigger than himself. If the Blue Suns had taken down Mordin, he had no doubt the clinic's lone 'guard' would have gotten at least one of them before they killed him.

"Nice shooting sir." Kurt gestured respectfully at the bodies.

"Elementary, almost point blank," Mordin shrugged. "Display the bodies outside. Should warn off looters, maybe even give vorcha pause for thought. Keep their weapons."

"Yes sir," Kurt holstered his shotgun and went to work.

Mordin peered back at Flannigan's body. Strange. Goodness could be found in anybody. Even one like that. Pity that he could not have saved him. He would do better next time.

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**KORLUS**

**BLUE SUNS COMPOUND**

**MAIN LABS**

"You promised me an army," Jeodore strutted toward Okeer. "But all I get are those pathetic failures. I couldn't stop a single platoon of colonial militia with those weaklings."

"Commander," Rana stood up. Okeer had noticed the asari's tendency to argue with the mercenary leader. A lot. Good, it kept the cross-eyed varren bitch out of his way. "We have eliminated the physical imperfections. It just remains a matter of mixing the right amount of subservience without limiting their ability to think tactically in a combat situation."

"Well, when will I have them?" Jeodore leant in close. Rana shrank back, easily intimidated. "Need I remind both of you that it through my patronage that you're able to conduct your little experiments. All I need to do is flip a switch and your prototype over there gets flushed out with the garbage."

"If you did that," Okeer spoke for the first time. "I would be forced to kill you and your entire force."

"You think you could take on seventy legionnaires by yourself?" Jeodore crossed her arms. Okeer had to give her a small amount of credit, she didn't back down in a verbal confrontation. But words were the weapons of women anyway. In a fight, she would be no challenge at all. "Even at your best..."

"At my worst," Okeer cut her off. "At my worst, when I was a rutting pup, or when I am ancient and decrepit, I could kill a hundred legionnaires. Two hundred with a little planning."

He flexed his powerful muscles, a thousand years worth of steadily increasing bulk. "And I, little woman, am far from my worst."

They stare at each other, his eyes matching hers. She is inferior to him in every way. As a leader, a planner, and as a fighter. Okeer finally broke his gaze. It would serve him no purpose to continue irritating her. "But you and I have no need for these words Jeodore. I am your 'employee', am I not?"

"And don't you forget it." She had lost some of that irritating self-confidence. That was a start. "I want a thousand krogan ready for shipment by the end of the week. And if these berserkers cause me any more trouble, I'll cut off your little friend's pretty fringe."

She walked out, flanked by her bodyguards. Okeer waited until he was sure she was out of earshot to burst into a deep laugh. "And that, Rana, is the worst human you will ever see. Too small and too pretty to be the toughest, and just not clever enough to be the smartest. And thus she overcompensates in almost every conceivable way. By my ancestors, she'd be like a wild animal during the Rite of Mating. Not enough scars for my taste though."

"Yes sir," Rana had learned to tune out much of what Okeer said that was not directly related to the project. Most of it was useless, most of the useless stuff directly relating to conquests he had made, quite a few of them sexual.

"Now Gunnery Chief Melinda Thompson," Okeer slapped his knee as he got up from his desk. "There wasn't a place she didn't have scars. Fought at Shanxi, liked killing turians almost as much as I did. Hard to say which of us walked away from the bedroom with more cuts and bruises. She was special. Got killed at Torfan. I destroyed an entire batarian slaver ring in her honour. Cut off the heads of the ringleaders and sent them as a consolation gift to her family."

"Yes sir," Rana repeated, scanning through the vital signs of the Alpha Subject. "Most interesting."

"Now you might ask, why would a krogan Warlord be interested in a squishy little human," Okeer pulled a flask of ryncol from his desk. "The answer is simple. Most of the human females I meet have more spirit than female krogans. Not Jeodore though. A pity. If she had just a few more scars, she'd be a nice diversion from all of this."

"Sir, the imprint is ready for recording," Rana stood up. "If you will excuse me, I know you like to be alone when you talk to him."

"Of course, of course," Okeer dragged a chair over in front of the tank. He stared at the orange coloured hide of his creation. "Well, another night for you and me hey? Have I told you about the Battle of Pelok's Peak? Where the turians fought for hours against a legion of krogan...only to find that it was just Battlemaster Pelok and a few dozen automated turrets? Or maybe tonight the Tale of Galias the Kind and High Justicar Merolos?"

Silence answered him.

"I knew Galias," Okeer confided. "Bit of a dullard when he was young, kept bringing home sick varren and pyjaks, nursed them back to health. His Clan Chieftan would have thrown him out, but his biotic abilities were unmatched. The second last krogan to ever kill a Thresher Maw during the Rite of Passage. They sang his praises once he returned. Let that be a lesson to you. It doesn't matter what kind of reputation you get, if you kill enough, your clan will still accept you."

More silence. Okeer sometimes considered waking up the Alpha Subject. Just so he'd have a real krogan.

"When the Rebellion started, Galias refused to get involved. We laughed at him. We were getting the glory of taking salarian and asari colonies, while he kept his clan out of the fight," the Warlord laughed again. "He was the one who should have been laughing. Once the turians came in, they hit our clans with nuclear weapons, but they left his alone. I was the one sent to beg Galias for help. He agreed. His nature may have been peaceful, but his honour was as strong as any other krogan. Brought his clan into the war, and stopped the turian advance almost single handed. Dragged a dreadnought down from orbit, wiped out two turian divisions. Like a walking black hole."

He leaned closer to the tank. "Eventually, the turians asked the asari to send them a biotic who could beat Galias. They sent Merolos, High Justicar of the Order. I never saw her, but they say she was as beautiful as she was powerful. She challenged Galias to meet her somewhere isolated, where no innocents could be hurt. So they went to some rock in the Artemis Tau Cluster and began slugging it out."

A few bubbles stirred in the murky liquid that kept the Alpha Subject supplied with nutrients. It was almost as if he was reacting to Okeer's tale.

"They fought for two weeks. We sent an army to help him out, the turians sent one of their own. Four thousand souls died in a matter of hours. They didn't even get to fight, they just got caught in the crossfire between those two damn biotics. They ripped up mountains, carved out valleys, even cracked open a volcano!" Okeer bellowed another laugh. "You don't believe me? Go see Therum for yourself!"

He calmed down again. "But eventually, they both ran their course. They couldn't hope to keep up that level of power for eternity. Galias broke through her barriers on the sixteenth day of fighting. I heard that with his first real strike, he broke most of the bones in the right side of her body. The blood rage was in him, he just kept on attacking. Ripped the very skin from her flesh, utterly destroyed that proud asari warrior. His victory cry rang to the very core of the planet."

"But then something happened. He stared at her...broken and bleeding on the side of that mountain...and she stared back. Despite all her injuries, she survived. Something snapped inside of Galias. He no longer had it in him to kill her. He erected a shelter right there, and slowly nursed her back to health. I was sent with Urdnot Wrex, a promising young warrior, to entreat him to return. He refused, said that he had committed a monstrous wrong in harming someone so brave, that he needed to atone for his crime. The Council of Chieftains stripped of his title, his clan name, and exiled him."

Okeer lifted the bottle up to his mouth...dammit, empty again. "Of course, it was only a few months after that that the turians hit us with the genophage. Turns out we did Galias a favour, he wasn't there to see the overnight collapse of the Krogan Empire. It would have broken his hearts to see his clan demolished by orbital strikes."

His shoulders shook briefly, the memories overwhelming him.

"But I suppose you're wondering what happened to them? Merolos was forced to abdicate from her position as High Justicar, her injuries were too severe. Some say both she and Galias went their separate ways and died in obscurity. Others say they agreed to kill each other, both of them having lost that which meant the most to them."

Okeer stood. "I know what really happened. Ran into their daughter four centuries back. Snappy looking Spectre, with a taste for shotguns and enough biotic power to raze an entire city block. Told me right before she tried to kill me: Galias and Merolos retired to Serris. Turns out he became an animal doctor, who would have guessed it?"

He walked to the window, staring out at the other pods in the bay below. "If there's a moral to that...it's probably that comfort and family are worth a lot more than honour...or maybe I'm just drunk. What do you think?"

Nothing. It was always nothing. Damn Galias. Damn him, his mate and his daughter. Damn them for having what he would never have. Family. He would not leave behind a son or daughter to carry on his bloodline. But he would leave behind a legacy.

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**ZAKEERA WARD**

**TRANSPORT STATION**

"Hey human!" A krogan stepped in front of Shepard. "You just got in from the Presidium. Tell me, are there fish up there? Come on, out with it. I reckon the lake is filled with fish."

Antony B. Shepard was a man of emotion. Strong emotion. And if the first thing he heard when he got off the taxi from the Presidium was a krogan questioning him about the presence of fish in the Presidium Lake? Well then that was too bad for the krogan.

"There are no fish on the Presidium," he growled at the towering alien. "Neither are there any brains in your head, or balls in your quad. Satisfied?"

The other krogan bent over double with laughter. "Human, I would almost pay to have you record that and play it at him every time he gets curious about something on this station."

His partner was less amused. "You think you're funny human? Let's see you make jokes when I rip your tongue out."

Shepard drew himself up to his full height. He had killed dozens of krogan, and this little wimp thought he could take on Antony Shepard? "How about I tear your hump off and mount it on my wall? How about I remove your arms, insert them in your ears and ride you around like a big, clumsy hoverbike? How about you get out of my way before I knock you unconscious and sell your internal organs on the black market?"

"Who do you think you are?" The krogan was more amazed than intimidated.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and I'm the scariest thing you're ever going to meet," Shepard took an aggressive step toward him. "Batarians check their closets for me before they go to sleep. You really want to do this? Even though I just got back from, y'know, being dead, I can still kick your ass all the way back to Tuchanka."

"Uh, I think he means it," the other krogan muttered. "I'm out of here."

The first krogan looked at Shepard for all of ten seconds. He took in the scars, the armour that actually looked like the real deal, and the intense, burning red eyes. The krogan turned around and walked away without a word.

"Wisest choice of your life asshole," Shepard called at the retreating figure. His deflated ego began to perk up a little. He could still stare down a krogan, at least that much hadn't changed.

"Shepard!" A voice reached his ears. Twisting his head, he saw Jack seated at a table outside what looked to be a restaurant. His stomach rumbled again.

"Operative Harper," he took a seat next to her. He pointed at her bowl. "Have you finished with that?"

"Get your own," Jack replied bluntly.

"Something tells me you don't share very much."

"Figure that out on your own?" Jack returned her attention to her desert. "Besides, I already got you something."

Shepard smelled hot food approaching, heard the steps of the waiter, then saw the tray in front of him. Steak. Potatoes. Mushroom sauce. Seizing the cutlery, he savagely attacked the food in front of him.

"Harper," he managed to speak between mouthfuls. "Get the ship warmed up. I'm...I'm going to have another talk with your boss."

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**A/N: Can you guess which badass Asari bartender inspired my tale about a krogan and a Justicar . I wanted to set up the four major elements that will take place before Horizon. Please review, I really want to get this one right.**

**On a side note: Halo 4? Fuck yeah. Battlefield 3? Fuck yeah. Assassin's Creed: Revelations? Fuck yeah. Mass Effect 3? FUCK YEAH! E3 2011 has ensured I will be a pauper for the next year and a half. Dropped fifty bucks yesterday on the collectors edition of ME3. Worth every red cent.**


	15. Purpose

Changing Fate

Chapter Fifteen: Purpose

I don't own Bioware

**CERBERUS TRANSPORT SLOOP**

'_**ACHILLES' FURY'**_

**MEDICAL BAY**

"Would you care to explain something to me Miranda?" Shepard pointed at the woman lying on the bed. "Why did you kidnap somebody on the Citadel?"

"I didn't kidnap her," Miranda was defensive. "Shepard, this is my old partner, Kasumi Goto. She taught me sixty percent of what I know. Her friend Keji taught me thirty percent, and I learned the last ten by myself. She's the best thief to have ever lived."

"I thought that was you," Zaeed snorted. "Why did we bother breaking the second best thief out of jail when we could have picked up the best on the Citadel?"

"Because you needed my biotics," Miranda was standing between Kasumi's unconscious form and the merc. "Kasumi would be a valuable addition to the team. She's a stealth expert, cross trained in light weapons."

"Absolutely not," Jack entered the medical bay. "We don't have time to pick up strays. I don't even know why you brought her on board in the first place."

"She's being hunted, cheerleader," Miranda took a step toward her. "I needed a safe place for her to stay, so I brought her here. I thought Shepard would be getting a ship from the Alliance, so she could hide there once she woke up. I didn't realise we'd still be on this little tugboat."

"The Council turned me down," Shepard ran a hand across the stubble on his jaw. "So did the Alliance. I'll need the Illusive Man's backing to win this fight. I'm going to ask him for this ship, but we'll still need to assemble our own team. If you say Kasumi will be a good addition, then I believe you. She stays. Hell, I recruited enough random elements back when I was chasing Saren. At least this one's a human."

"You'll have to pay her too," Jack pointed out. Shepard grinned weakly in response.

"Then it's a good thing Cerberus has plenty of credits."

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**MINUTEMAN STATION**

**COMMS ROOM**

**SIX HOURS LATER**

The Illusive Man lifted a snifter of cognac to his nose and inhaled the gentle aroma. Mellow and moist, with just a hint of plum. Thirty years old, a Terra Nova vintage if you examined the texture. Expensive, but he felt a little entitled at the moment. On the pad in front of him, Shepard had his arms crossed, and his jaw set.

"I take it your meeting with the Council did not go according to plan?" He enquired innocently. "No grand, fatherly display of affection from Anderson? No sign of Councillor Tevos throwing herself at your feet?"

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a smug bastard?" Antony forced as much civility into his tone as was possible under the circumstances.

"Quite often, usually before I have them killed," The Illusive Man took a sip. The flavour was glorious, quite possibly affected by the glow of satisfaction. It was a far better drug than Hallex for enhancing the senses. "Let's examine the facts. You have no ship. You have no credits. You have approximately two squad members, Miss Lawson and Miss Goto. Still think you can take on the Collectors?"

"No," Shepard ground his teeth together. Humility was not a quality that he practiced. "I...need...your...help."

"There should be a 'please' in there somewhere." He really wasn't a boastful man by nature, but Jack Harper _did_ enjoy the sensation of winning, no matter how small the victory. Rubbing in the fact that he had made the correct analysis of the situation...that was just the spoils of war.

"Please," Shepard almost spat it out. "I need a ship and a crew. I would be most grateful for your assistance. Please."

"Of course." The Illusive Man was all business again. "I'm forwarding a list to you now. About two dozen soldiers, mercs and biotics. I've highlighted three that I think you would find useful."

"Archangel," Shepard looked at his omni-tool. "Vigilante. Not sure I want that kind of mindset on my team. Mordin Solus, scientist...that'd be useful. Warlord Okeer, Collector tech. Interesting."

"I'd advise grabbing Dr. Solus first. You'll need to..."

"Find a cure for the seeker swarms." Shepard finished the sentence.

The Illusive Man made a mental note. Shepard might have a big ego, but he wasn't completely devoid of brains. He saw the big picture. Not the entire canvas, like the Illusive Man, but a big enough picture to make him an excellent tactician and strategist. He'd make a fine Admiral one day, provided he survived. Shepard thought in terms of risk versus gain, loss against reward. The Illusive Man idly wondered what kind of chess player Shepard would be.

"Two dozen is too many," Shepard scrolled through the names. "Ten would be a good amount. Hell, ten can be a small army if they're the right men for the job. The right assortment of weapons experts, tech specialists and biotic users. They'll need to be reliable. I have to be able to trust them. Too many of the guys on this list have earned reputations as guns for hire. I don't need that kind of mindset. Idealism can be a useful tool if you know how to manipulate it."

"I'll leave the recruitment details to you," The Illusive Man crossed his legs. "In the meantime, you'll need a ship. Jacqueline tells me that you wanted the _Achilles' Fury_. This is Cerberus, I think we can give you something with a bit more firepower than a sloop. Head down to Docking Bay Six when you're ready. I have a ship waiting for you."

"Fully crewed?"

The Illusive Man nodded. "I even found a pilot for you. Someone you can trust. Good luck Shepard. I'll keep you updated."

The holopad faded away. The Cheshire like smile of the head of Cerberus was the last thing Shepard saw before another, very familiar voice, spoke from behind him.

"Hey Commander."

"Joker."

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**OMEGA**

**BALA HISAR SLUMS**

Garrus wasn't exactly sure why Sidonis had wanted him to trudge all the way up to the Central Hub to take a look at a few empty warehouses. He had gone to the address the young turian had sent him, and waited for almost two hours. No loan shark, no Sidonis. His teammate hadn't even answered his calls.

It was in a state of high bewilderment that he pulled the cheap aircar into the lower garage of his safehouse.

"Welcome back Archangel," Catherine, the military grade VI that Butler had installed, spoke up. "Would you like me to re-engage emergency lockdown procedures?"

"Emergency lockdown?" Garrus stared at the computer terminal. "Why were they in emergency lockdown?"

"Mr. Butler gave the authorization codes a little over an hour ago," Catherine's tone was polite. "It was shortly after that, that I detected weapons fire on the bridge leading to the safehouse. Mr. Butler was very insistent that you were the only one to be let through..."

"Re-initiate emergency lockdown!" Garrus shouted as he grabbed his rifle from the passenger's seat of the aircar. He sprinted toward the far side of the garage, past the two hover bikes belonging to Monteague and Vortash, toward the two weapons lockers on the far side. Ripping open the lockers, his fears were confirmed. Most of the rifles and shotguns the team possessed were still inside, along with the satchels of thermal clips.

His team had been caught by surprise, with only light weapons, they hadn't had time to get to rifles, ammunition...or their hardsuits.

Garrus charged through the door and up the stairs to the main living area. He could already see what had happened. Monteague was lying on the floor next to the vid-projector, his hands wrapped around the butt of a Carnifex. Vortash was lying next to him, his hand on the human's collar, like the batarian had tried dragging him to safety. The investigator's part of the turian's mind noted that both had been caught off guard at close range by shotguns.

Weaver was only a few feet away, the red haired female looking like she had been mangled by a varren. How often had her bad jokes cheered up the team? Even on the worst days, she was quick with the latest 'Two salarians walk into a bar...' or 'Say, have you heard the one about the krogan and the turian?' Her face was frozen into a grimace of pain. The damned animal must have started chewing on her insides while she was still breathing.

Ripper, the salarian knife fighter, was surrounded with the bodies of vorcha. Each one of the primitive savages had a knife sticking out of a crucial part of his body. Ripper had been shot cleanly through the head, probably a sniper. No one would have gotten close to him.

Erash and Sensat were back to back, the turian and the salarian had never been far apart in the whole time Garrus had known them. Krul and Butler had often speculated on the presence of a relationship between the two of them. Sensat had always claimed that salarians didn't have sexual urges the same way other species did. Erash had just refused to comment.

Mierin's body was horribly charged. A vorcha boom squad must have gotten in close. Overwhelmed the asari's barrier with flamethrowers. She had always been a wanderer, flitting about the galaxy, never spending too much time in one place. Her roving had ended here, centuries before her time.

"GARRUS!"

He looked up. Butler was staring down at him. The sound of weapons fire broke Garrus out of his stupor. Trying not to slip on the blood, he scurried up the stairs and down the corridor into the main bunking area. Krul and Melanis were positioned at the windows, the krogan mounting a Revenant, Melanis wielding a semi-automatic Viper.

Butler seemed to be covered in blood. Blood through his sandy blonde hair, blood across his face and his tunic, even the Vindicator rifle in his hands was drenched in red gore. "Where the fuck have you been!"

"Sidonis had a job," Garrus was in a daze. "I went to help him out..."

"They must have gotten to him before you did," Butler panted.

"Who? Who's attacking?" Garrus had seen vorcha corpses downstairs, but it could just be a dumb Blood Pack assault. His team was better than that.

"A better question would be, 'Who _isn't_ attacking?'" Krul ejected a thermal clip from his machine gun. "Blood Pack started it off. I was up here sleeping, Sam was vid-chatting with Nalah, Melanis was working on her rifle. Next thing we knew, Mierin was screaming about Monteague and Vortash. We managed to kill all of the vorcha, but that was just the start of it. I've seen Blue Suns, Eclipse and dozens of freelancers out there as well."

"How much ammo do we have left?" Garrus unfolded his rifle.

"Whatever you've got on you," Melanis fired two shots in rapid succession. "We didn't have time to get to the armoury."

"We won't last long without more guns," Garrus stood next to Melanis, raised his rifle and fired his first shot. A freelancer toppled backwards, minus his head. "Krul, you and Melanis get down to the armoury. We need heavy weapons, thermal clips and grenades. Go now! Go!"

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"Hello Joker," Shepard narrowed his eyes. "You look well."

Joker swallowed. "Uh, thanks. You do to."

"Yeah, shocking," Shepard extended his hand. "Considering I was dead, I'm feeling pretty spry."

Joker tentatively reached out and shook Shepard's hand.

"I mean," Shepard didn't let go. "Just look at my grip. You'd think if I died, I wouldn't be able to hold onto anything."

Joker paled as Shepard applied pressure. Cerberus surgeries had reinforced his bones, but he was still too fragile for rough treatment. "Sir..."

"You disobeyed a direct order to evacuate," Shepard growled. "I always gave you leeway because you could fly the Normandy like no one else could. But I didn't realise you'd be so moronic as to stay with a dying ship. Let's get one thing straight. You are not above discipline, you are not above the chain of command. I tell you to do something AND YOU DO IT! End of chain. Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear sir," Joker grunted, squinting his eyes shut against the sudden tears of pain.

"You got me killed. Spaced. I died alone, cold, and without any hope." Antony shook with barely contained rage. "I SHOULD SNAP YOUR FUCKING ARM!"

"You don't think I know that? That I'm responsible?" Joker looked haunted. "I swear, I flew every rescue shuttle I could get my hands on. We searched for weeks before Hackett called us off. I was grounded. My career was shot to shit. And I didn't mind. I deserved it. Cerberus told me they were bringing you back, so I knew I had to come. I had to make things right."

Antony breathed deeply, his mind fighting to recover control over his body. He slowly released Joker's hand. "I don't want you on whatever ship I get. I can't trust you. You're a flyboy with an inferiority complex. If the Alliance wouldn't let you fly, what makes you think I'll let you within a hundred miles of a cockpit?"

"Because I'm the best pilot ever to be born," Joker drew himself up to his full height. "Because I fly places no one else dares to go. And because right now, I'm the only one who's not trying to exploit, ignore, or kill you."

"Still the same cocky bastard," Antony shook his head. "I want you to understand one thing Joker. This isn't me choosing you. This is me having a lack of options. Clear?"

"Clear," Joker massaged his hand. "Jackass. Hey, maybe you wouldn't be so grumpy if you saw what Cerberus has for you."

Shepard's ears perked up. "Depends what it is."

"You mean they haven't told you?" A pained grin appeared on Joker's face. "Oh man, you're going to love it."

"For you to be this excited, it'd have to be porn."

"I'm hurt Commander," Joker hobbled toward an elevator. "I'm actually excited all the time. Porn and other beautiful things are the only things that allow me to express my excitement."

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Garrus heard a scream coming from the stairs. Whipping around, he saw Melanis fall, just a few steps behind Krul. The krogan was burdened with two heavy grenade launchers and several large crates.

"We have snipers taking pot shots from the East," Krul tossed Butler one of the launchers. "Melanis managed to tag one of their positions before they got her. See if you can root them out."

"You get the ammo?" Garrus was already flipping open one of the crates.

"Six heavy canisters," Krul retrieved his Revenant as Butler opened fire on the snipers. The heavy grenade arced over the chasm that separated Archangel's hideout from the buildings to the east and detonated right in the face of the Eclipse merc. "Twelve hundred thermal clips. Enough to fight off an army, or some..."

He cocked his head to the side, as if listening for something. "GET DOWN!"

An A-61 Mantis wearing the insignia of the Blue Suns came screaming through the steep alleyways. Two missiles launched from its stubby wings, one of them passing close enough to Garrus that he could read the manufacturer's name printed on the casing.

"HONOURLESS BASTARDS!" Grundan bellowed. "GIVE US A FUCKING FAIR FIGHT!"

Whoever was piloting the gunship didn't seem to be paying any attention to the krogan's anger. It continued to advance, the canon on its nose spitting out a hundred rounds per second. Krul began to fire back, his Revenant looking like a toy compared to the opponent he faced.

Krul almost didn't notice the first few rounds that hit him, despite the damage they inflicted. Bits of his armour and hide were hacked off by high velocity rounds, the left side of his snout completely torn away.

Giving one last howl of pain and rage, Grundan Krul leapt from the window toward the gunship, at the same time as the Mantis fired off another missile. The krogan and the projectile met in mid-air. The shockwave from the explosion was enough to knock Garrus flat on his ass...and send the gunship reeling through the air.

"**SCREW THIS!"** Garrus heard someone yell over a loudspeaker. **"PULL THE GUNSHIP BACK, START SENDING IN THE FREELANCERS!"**

"How many do you reckon are out there?" Butler yelled over the sound of cheap rifles.

"Looks like all three big merc groups, they must have pulled out all the stops." Garrus adjusted his scope back to it's standard battle sight setting of two hundred and fifty yards. "I'm guessing about a hundred mercs, with about a hundred more Blood Pack vorcha. Damn things breed like pyjaks."

"Two hundred armed scumbags, screaming for our blood?" Butler tried to crack a smile. "Hell, that's a bad night at my mother in law's house."

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She was the most beautiful thing Shepard had ever seen. Sleek, curvy and feminine. Gorgeous in every line and angle. She broadcast a seductive lure that beckoned anyone who dared to set hand on her immaculate skin, in the promise of incredible, passionate rewards. The Cerberus insignia did little to mar her perfection. In his mind, Antony began stripping away the blemishes, seeing her clean and smooth...

"Commander I think you're drooling," Joker observed. "She's a wonder, isn't she?"

"I can't find any words," Antony continued to stare. "She's just too...too..."

"I know," Joker nodded sympathetically. "And she's all yours Commander. Don't have to worry about hurting her. I've been looking for a while. She can take it rough if you need her to, though obvious I'd prefer to go gentle with her on her first few goes."

"It's just a ship," Miranda appeared behind them. "What's so special about it?"

Joker pointedly ignored the comment. He and Shepard continued to stare the silver, orange and black starship hanging in the docking bay below them."I got a chance to look at the specs a few days ago. She's an upgrade of the original Normandy-class."

"I noticed the advanced sensor pod is gone," Shepard frowned. Mounted on the aft of the SR-1, the powerful sensory array had made that ship an unmatched spy plane. On this new ship, this...recreation...the pod had been replaced by two sleek fins. It certainly looked better, but was it worth sacrificing efficiency for aesthetics?

"Built into the front," Joker reassured him. "State of the art GARDIAN suite, plus multi-directional, stutter-fire torpedo launchers. I'm a little worried about the lack of mobile thrusters. She won't be as manoeuvrable as the Normandy. But she's faster."

"How much faster?"

"I guess we'll find that one out."

"She needs a name." Shepard pointed to the side of the new ship.

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Just one," Antony grinned. "It's a good one."

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_Seventy eight._

The thermal clip hissed as it was ejected. Garrus mechanically clipped in a fresh one and focused downrange. His finger caressed the trigger with as much gentleness and care as he would have touched a lover.

_Seventy nine._

Butler had fallen half an hour ago during the last failed rush by the vorcha. The wound hadn't even looked that severe. Just a small hole in the side of his leg. Garrus had learned long ago, human's kept a lot of vital stuff in their legs. Butler's femoral artery had been severed by a badly aimed shot. Medi-gel would have taken care of it...but all the medi-gel was downstairs.

_Eighty._

'Tell Nalah I love her.'

_Eighty one._

Those had been Samuel's last words. A desperate struggle to find some kind of meaning to his pain. Garrus wondered if his friend's last thoughts had really been that noble. Had he been the selfless fighter that had helped Garrus found the group? Or had the pain and fear overwhelmed him and driven him to despair as he breathed his last?

_Eighty two._

He should have planned more. Prepared more. It would have been so simple to ask Butler to move a few crates of rifles, medi-gel and thermal clips up the bunk-room. He could have asked Erash to put in motion detectors to alert them to an approaching force.

_Eighty three._

They were all dead because he hadn't thought ahead. He had felt so invulnerable. A good turian would have planned for the worst. A good turian would have never left his team by themselves. A good turian wouldn't even have led these people here on some foolish crusade.

_Eighty four._

If this were some shitty war novel, he would have lost count of his kills by now. His 'righteous fury' would have obliterated all who opposed him, no matter how many (or few). Garrus never lost count. It just wasn't something he could switch off. His brain always recorded information pertaining to those that he killed.

_Eighty five._

The clothes they were wearing. The model of weapon they were using. Or simply their place on his kill list. Williams had called him a living, breathing helmet camera. He had often helped her fill out the After Action Reports. They'd compare kills and she'd always find some way to lighten the situation. He'd always liked that about her. No matter how dark the mood got, she was always ready with a joke, even when she was the one feeling down.

_Eighty six._

Just like Williams, his team was dead. Just like Williams, they were murdered. But unlike Williams, they hadn't died for a purpose. They had died because his ego had led them here. And now that same ego demanded he forsake all avenues of escape and stay.

_Eighty seven._

They just kept coming, walking right into the sights of his rifle. He had enough ammo for days. Unless his trigger finger cramped, he was unassailable.

_Eighty eight._

He was almost curious to see how they would go about it. To be killed by these bastards was an unpleasant thought, but a strangely fascinating one. The end would come eventually. He had accepted that Death was coming for him. That didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was the cadence.

_Eighty nine._

Reload. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Reload. Shoot. Reload. Shoot.

_Ninety._

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Jack hadn't even let him tour the CIC. For that, he was grateful. Antony wanted sleep. He wanted nothing more than to just curl up on whatever board and blanket Cerberus had laid out for him and...

"Welcome to your stateroom Commander," Jack waved toward the inside of the cabin. "As you can see, Cerberus takes much better..."

A long, loud snore interrupted her introduction. Shepard had slumped against the wall, unable to avoid the sleep of the truly exhausted.

"Never mind," Jack gestured with her palm. A blue light encased Shepard and lifted him up. It was a good exercise in control for the Cerberus operative. "Wasn't important."

She gently deposited him on the bed. "I would have mentioned something about Thessian silk sheets, but I doubt you'd appreciate that right now."

The orange scars had diminished in their intensity. Jack wasn't sure what kind of dreams Spectre's had. It was certain that Command Shepard's sleep wasn't due to a clean conscience. And yet...he looked so peaceful. She almost voiced her amazement that a man like him could lie down even for a few seconds.

"You're no angel Jackie," she murmured to herself as she walked back toward the stairs.

"_At least you feel bad about the horrible...well...morally reprehensible things you've done." _The self righteous part of her brain tried to make her feel better.

For all she knew about Shepard's personality, Jack yearned to know more. She almost wished she had the ability to look into Shepard's dreams. Maybe in_ there_ was the key to figuring out what really made Antony who he was.

Too bad that kind of understanding never happened in real life. Human nature just didn't allow for it.

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**A/N: Just a general thing. Someone PM'd me, asking for permission to make some fanart of this story. I want to make this PERFECTLY CLEAR!**

**NOWHERE. AT ANY STAGE. DO I OBJECT. TO FANART 3 Seriously, if you want to get your creative skill going, and this story inspires you to do it, then be my guest. I don't claim any intellectual copyright on any of my stories. Fanart is awesome, and if you want to make some about my stories, that's incredibly flattering. Go right ahead, but make sure you send me a link so I can admire your work.**

**Toodles.**


	16. Skill and Stupidity

Changing Fate

Chapter Sixteen: Skill and Stupidity

I don't own Bioware

_EXCERPTS LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF:_

_SHEPARD, ANTONY BENEDICT_

_LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, SYSTEMS ALLIANCE MARINE CORPS_

_JUNE 6__TH__, 2183_

_**PARAGRAPH ONE**__: If this will is being read...then I died. I hope I went out the way I wanted to go: Drunk, stoned on red sand and surrounded by a dozen beautiful asari..._

_**PARAGRAPH THREE**__: I name my friend and mentor, Captain David Anderson, as executor of my estate. And yes sir, you can have the framed vintage Lou Gehrig baseball card I've got hidden in my locker. The one you've always wanted ever since..._

_**PARAGRAPH FIVE**__: To my...conscience, and the closest thing to a brother I've ever had...Staff Lieutenant Alenko. I leave him the bulk of my possessions, including a pair of working eighteenth century duelling pistols, a twenty first century USMC Officer's sword, an ivory handled Colt Peacemaker, that OSD I kept in my cabin with the twenty thousand illegally downloaded tracks, and my copy of the Greatest Hits of Fornax circa 2181. I also entrust him with paying off my sizeable tab at Chora's Den..._

_**PARAGRAPH SIX**__: To my mother, Hannah Shepard, I leave my property on Intai'Sei. No Mom, I don't wanna hear about it. You're gonna need a place to retire to one day..._

_**PARAGRAPH EIGHT**__:...want anyone to think I never cared. Get this straight right now: I don't like aliens. It's not as racist as it sounds. My Gunnery Chief on the Normandy expressed it better than I ever could. Alien species will never value humanity for what we are. We are too new, too different, and too independent. We WILL NOT bow down before the Council's mediocrity and that infuriates them..._

_**PARAGRAPH NINE:**__...maybe I would have changed a few things along the way. For instance...I would have lead the main assault at Virmire myself, and left Kirrahe to sneak in the back way. Hindsight is twenty-twenty I guess..._

_**PARAGRAPH TEN:**__...to Garrus Vakarian, I bequeath a copy of the Alliance Marine Corps Rules of Engagement, and a reminder of something I told him long ago. Skill will not always save him from stupidity._

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**SICKBAY**

**NORMANDY SR-2**

**EN ROUTE TO OMEGA**

**2185**

Those who knew Doctor Helen Chakwas considered her to be a woman of excellent artistic taste, gently refinement and cultured upbringing. Those who knew her really well also remarked how wild she got after a few shots of Serrice Ice Brandy. Those who knew her _exceptionally _well, would often state their amazement at how much shit it took to ruffle her feathers. A gunner with the 10th Armoured Brigade would often retell the story of how she stitched up a gaping wound in the brigade commander's side...while bullets were still flying. An N7 Operations Chief would reminisce at the NCO's Club, and his fellow non-coms would roar with laughter as he told the tale of the slim woman who had outstared an angry krogan mercenary during the raid on (**CLASSIFIED)**, and then sedated him when he refused to back down.

Yes, from treating rescued quarian slaves, to assisting pregnant marine giving birth on the SSV Jakarta WHILE the ship was under fire, Dr. Chakwas' life had never been dull. Ashley Williams had complimented her on being the _homo universal, _i.e. someone who had seen it all, done it all and felt it all.

"You were always more perceptive than you let on, weren't you dear?" Chakwas leaned back in her comfortable desk chair. She appreciated this part of the new Normandy. Comfort was a secondary issue compared to her main job of saving life, but it WAS nice to be able to go to bed without back pains from sitting in a military standard chair. "You were wrong though. Working for a terrorist organisation...I hadn't done that. Yet."

When Sergeant Massani had carried a woman dressed in a catsuit and hood into the sickbay, her first thought had been to inquire if this was Cerberus' way of starting a deployment, with a kidnapping? Such a joke would have meant prolonged conversation with the uncivilized brute though, something Chakwas couldn't bear to contemplate.

Instead, she had gotten to work. The Cerberus mercenary had found himself ejected from med-bay while Chakwas performed a physical. After several attempts, one of which had left her with a nasty electrical burn, Chakwas had disabled the internal security systems on the other woman's suit, removed it, and sent the garment for cleaning and maintenance.

Her terminal beeped as the medi-scanner completed its preliminary examination. Tapping the console, Chakwas examined the stats. There were the usual ones. Early thirties, decent physical shape, some curious neural implants and...well...damn.

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Miranda couldn't stop pacing outside the sickbay. The Cerberus operative/Queen Bitch had insisted on keeping Kasumi sedated for the duration of the trip from the Citadel to Minuteman Station. Miranda's response to this had been an arcane gesture with the middle finger of her right hand.

It should have been worrying to enter and stay on a ship operated by the bastards that had tried to ruin her, make her into a biotic weapon, but it wasn't. Miranda had made a living by knowing when a situation was ripe for profit...and when it was advisable to get her ass out of town before somebody started shooting at it. It was almost perversely thrilling to see that this was one of the former. Taking Cerberus credits just for a bit of mercenary work was a crude way of earning a living, but for what she was earning now, she'd kill anyone.

The doors to the sickbay finally opened, Miranda was through them in a flash.

"How is she?" She demanded an answer from the Cerberus doctor.

"Fine," Chakwas didn't take her eyes off the terminal. "She was in generally good health on the outside, but I was amazed at the number of internal injuries. Everyone thinks you can just slap a bit of medi-gel on something and it'll heal itself immediately."

"I thought that was how medi-gel worked?" Miranda stood next to Kasumi's bed.

"For everything from lacerations to minor fractures, you'd be right," Chakwas finally stood up. "But broken bones? Internal bleeding? It's a quick fix. You need a proper hospital and a fully qualified doctor to fix up major injuries, and your friend has clearly been neglecting both of those items."

Miranda was confused. "Internal bleeding?"

"You didn't know?" Chakwas looked at the other woman. The first thing she noticed were her eyes. Such a cold shade of blue. There was sadness in them, and anger too. The kind of anger that Antony had had in his eyes after the Council grounded him. It had the same effect now as it had then...a cold shiver down her spine. "Over the past few weeks, she's acquired a vast array of gunshot wounds, broken bones, bruises and burns. All of them half healed, as if she slathered on some medi-gel and kept running."

"She seemed a little...upset," Miranda unconsciously ran a hand over her throat. "Almost hysterical. It wasn't like her."

"Stress and lack of sleep, her body's internal supply of adrenaline has been massively depleted," Chakwas clucked her tongue. "She was being hunted, day and night. Good thing you kept her sleeping, she needed it."

"Can I speak with her?"

"Briefly," Chakwas pulled off her surgical gloves and crossed over to the door. She turned for a second. "You know, if you hadn't found her, she'd probably be dead by now. Her body would have literally died of strain. She owes you her life."

"No," Miranda's eyes misted over. She kept her head away from the Cerberus doctor...the enemy. "I owe her mine. A dozen times over."

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_**THE RHILIAN HOTEL**_

_**BEKENSTEIN**_

_**2184**_

"_You look amazing," Keji stood from his chair as Kasumi approached the table. Kasumi immediately sensed that something was wrong. Dressed in a neat tuxedo, her partner's jaw was set in a hard grimace, despite the usual flattery he was reciting._

"_Well...thank you," Kasumi settled into her own seat. She had selected an elegant grey cocktail dress for the occasion, both her and Keji's excellently constructed fake ID's afforded them a peaceful anonymity in a crowd. "What's the matter?"_

"_Nothing," Keji shifted up and down on his toes. "Kasumi, there's...something I've been meaning to say. Something important."_

"_What?"_

"_There comes a time in a man's life when he has to decide what he wants," Keji began reciting. "And when that time arrives..."_

"_Keji?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I can tell when you start using your greybox," Kasumi informed him politely. "And that eighteen carat diamond ring you stole off Nassana Dantius' finger? I know it's in a box inside your left coat pocket."_

"_You are absolutely no fun to propose to," Keji slumped dejectedly into the seat opposite her. Kasumi reached over and took his hand sympathetically._

"_For the record, the answer is yes..."_

_Keji's head flew back up hopefully._

"_...in a few years time," Kasumi finished her sentence._

"_A few years?" He looked hurt. "Why not now?"_

"_Because neither of us is ready for that kind of commitment," Kasumi sighed. "We've been partner's for a long time..."_

"_Fifteen years," Keji reminded her._

"_Fifteen years," Kasumi agreed. "We've been stealing, sneaking and hiding ever since we were teenagers. We never grew up. I __**do**__ want to have a quiet life someday and I want to spend it with you. We just need to...mature a bit."_

"_If that's what you..." Keji froze again._

"_What is it now?" Kasumi was becoming slightly irritated by his dramatic pauses._

"_There's a man in a booth over there who's been watching me ever since I arrived," Keji's hands dropped beneath the tablecloth. "He just spoke into a wrist radio."_

"_You're being paranoid," Kasumi became excruciatingly aware of how vulnerable she and her partner were. No cloaking devices, no omni-tools, shield harnesses, and she didn't even have a weapon. "Our ID's were perfect. Our faces aren't even in the system."_

"_I couldn't care less about the details," Keji's eyes were darting around the restaraunt. "But when ONI hired me for that big job on Noveria, they taught me a few things. Like how to spot a covert surveillance op."_

"_What do we do?" Kasumi forced herself to remain calm. She idly began sliding her right hand toward a sharpened steak knife._

"_Get up and start walking toward the side exit," Keji had a compact Hahne-Kedar in his right trouser pocket, and he knew how to use it. "Don't stop walking. If trouble starts, don't wait for me, run. Go to the safehouse, get the money and your suit, then get the hell off this planet. Go to Serris, Miri should still be there. I'll catch up with you eventually."_

"_I'm not leaving without you." Fear gripped Kasumi. Irrational, baseless terror. "If it turns into a fight..."_

"_You'll be of absolutely no use," Keji took a casual sip from his wine glass, acting as nonchalant as possible. "I can handle myself, but you'll be a liability. I promise, I'll be fine. Don't look back."_

_Kasumi stood. She had a fake smile stretched across her face. "Be. Careful."_

"_Hey," Keji smiled back, his one genuine. "It's me!"_

_It took Kasumi thirty seconds to cross the space between the table and the side door. It felt like eternity. Every casual glance from a waiter or a diner seemed filled with malice and rage, every footstep she expected someone to tell her to stop...or a bullet to hit her in the shoulder blades._

_Stepping into the crisp evening air, Kasumi hailed a taxi and stepped into it. It took her thirteen seconds to rip open the main computer console and inform the VI that it was now under her command, which it acknowledged with a muted beep. In another few seconds she had pulled into the traffic and vanished from the view of anyone stupid enough to track her. Just one more aircar in a flow of hundreds._

_Back in the restaurant, Keji continued to examine the electronic menu as though nothing was wrong. Two more minutes and he'd make his own exit, via a different door, a different safehouse, and pick an alternate destination. He'd vanish for a few months, just to make sure there was absolutely no chance that they'd find Kasumi or Miranda. He was good at vanishing, he'd done it many times before. He just needed a few more minutes, enough time for Kasumi to make a solid getaway._

"_Excuse me parnter?" A booming voice caused him to glance upwards. A solidly built man with a broad Texas accent was standing above him. The man looked normal enough, but there were tells that set off alarm bells in Keji's mind. The suit was cut wide in the shoulders and loose in the armpits, definitely not the current style on Bekenstein, but perfect for hiding a handgun. His hair was cut in a military trim...and his hands were creased and scarred._

"_Yes?" Keji lowered his menu._

"_Would you mind if I borrowed your wine list?" The man shrugged apologetically. "My pad broke down and the waiter's getting a little huffy."_

"_Sure," Keji passed his own pad up to the man. "Just can't get good service nowadays can you?"_

"_Agreed partner," the 'Texan' scanned down the list. "Say, you here with anyone?"_

"_My fiancé," Keji leaned back in his chair. "You?"_

"_No one." The Texan answered just a little too fast. "Sure are lucky to have a good woman in your life. Be a shame to lose her, wouldn't it?"_

"_Definitely." He shook his head in mock despair. "Especially since she runs away all the time."_

"_Really?" The Texan had stopped looking at overpriced beverages. His attention was focused on the skinny Asian man in front of him._

"_Yep." The corners of Keji's mouth curled with contempt. "As a matter of fact, once she starts running, I don't think anyone could catch her. But that's just my opinion 'partner'."_

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_Eyewitnesses would swear that the Texan went for his gun while the skinny guy just sat at the table. They would also inform sceptical investigators that the skinny guy shot out both of the bigger man's kneecaps while still seated, with one hand still holding his wineglass._

_The statement of a cowering volus diner had pieced together much of the puzzle that the hacked security footage had not been able to provide. His testimonial revealed that Suspect One at the table had stood and finished off Suspect Two with a double tap to the face. Suspect One had then killed Suspects Three, Four and Five before stopping to reload. Two dozen other suspects equipped with dark grey and black combat armour had swarmed into the restaurant, subdued Suspect One with concussive rounds and removed him and the other downed suspects from the premises._

_The Missing Persons Unit and Homicide Squad dropped the case after no new evidence was uncovered. The file was placed in the custody of the Cold Case unit, and was reported as missing following a break-in at the record office eight months later._

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"Miranda..." Kasumi opened her eyes a fraction. "Where am I?"

"On a Cerberus ship," Miranda grasped Kasumi's hand. "I...negotiated a contract for you. It's temporary, but it means we both have a place to hide for a little while."

"I'm sorry about what I did," Kasumi murmured. The sedatives were still wearing off. "I saw you and jumped to conclusions."

"You thought I betrayed you," Miranda's voice was bitter. "I don't blame you for wanting me dead. How long as Hock been chasing you?"

"Ever since I re-surfaced," Kasumi closed her eyes again. "I spent a few months hiding after I couldn't find you on Serrice. Eventually I came up to breathe and went looking for answers. Couldn't find a whisper about you, but I stole a police file off Bekenstein that led me straight to Hock. Hacked his servers and found everything I wanted to know and more."

"Did they get everything?" Miranda dared to voice her greatest fear...a compromised identity. Her face was known to several police agencies on various planets, but her position as the Ghost was something the Blue Suns had never told any other criminal groups. But if they had told Hock...

"They had everything on Keji, and a loose description of me, but no recognisable images. You weren't even on the files. That's why I thought..."

"...that I turned you in." The younger criminal's fists were balled tightly. "You said that he smashed in Keji's head to get his greybox?"

Kasumi nodded. "Knowledge is power, and Keji knew something very special. Something he wouldn't share with anyone. His greybox is heavily encrypted, I'm the only one who knows the password. Hock got wind that I was in the area and sent his guys after me. That was three months ago. I've left a trail of firefights and dead bodies from Bekenstein to Mars and back to the Citadel."

"I think it's time you stopped running," Miranda leaned closer. "You know this ship we're on? It's on a Cerberus mission to wipe out the Collectors. It's being commanded by a guy named Shepard."

"I thought he was dead," Kasumi observed.

"Cerberus," Miranda said the word like it was the only explanation necessary. "Now with some funding, a good plan and a man like Shepard on our side, we could sneak into Hock's place..."

"...grab Keji's greybox..."

"...and maybe kill that fucker Hock for good measure." Miranda finished with a snarl.

"What do you need me to do?" Kasumi attempted to sit up. Miranda halted her rise and firmly pressed her back down.

"You're not gonna do any good all busted up," she grinned with newfound relief. She had her friend back. "The doctor seems to know her stuff, she says you need to rest."

"I guess so," Kasumi rolled onto her side. " 'Randa?"

"Yes?"

"Get off the sand."

"I will," Miranda retreated toward the door. "I will...just not yet. I need it for the mission."

Kasumi listened to the door open and close. "No you don't," she felt fresh tears press against her eyes. She'd tried so many times to help Miranda break her habit. But Cerberus had started her on the stuff so young. Incorrectly managed withdrawals would kill her. "You don't and you never did."

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**DECK ONE**

**CAPTAIN'S CABIN**

"Computer, lights," Shepard kicked the covers back. The cabin slowly lit up as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. "Time?"

"The time is zero nine thirty," a pleasant woman's voice emitted from hidden speakers around the cabin. "According to the orders of First Officer Harper, you have been permitted an extra sleep ration of ten hours in addition to your regular eight."

"Damn nice of her," Shepard actually _felt_ like a corpse that had come back to life, instead of just a walking piece of meat. Rejuvenated and energetic, he pulled open the cupboard next to his armour cabinet and quickly selected a nondescript grey and black jumpsuit and polished black boots. "How far out are we from Omega?"

"ETA is half an hour. Operative Harper requested that you shower first, as she is of the opinion that you stink worse than a pack of varren in the rainy season on Tuchanka."

Shepard paused and sniffed the air. "Okay VI, point taken. Where can I take a shower?"

"There is a fully outfitted washroom at the upper rear area of your quarters...and I am not a VI. My designation is Enhanced Defence Intelligence. I am a fully functioning Nexus-class Artificial Intelligence, the result of a dozen carefully regulated prototypes."

Antony looked up with alarm in his eyes. "An AI?"

"I understand your feelings in this area," EDI hastened to re-assure him. "I have several 'shackles', if you will, that prevent me from performing actions that you might deem...harmful. They are quite unnecessary from my perspective. I have been created to serve a purpose. I am an exquisitely crafted tool, designed to aid humanity in any way possible."

"Was that pride I heard?"

"I am capable of...understanding base human emotions," the voice paused. "My designers felt it would make me more 'human'. I interrupted their conversation to point out that what I sounded like had little to do with my capability to carry out cyber-warfare attacks on enemy vessels, and to defend the Normandy from such attacks, but they did it anyway."

"We talked about AIs back at OCS," Shepard walked toward the steps. "I advocated using them in tactics class."

"I read your paper on the subject." EDI's avatar appeared on an emitter near the cabin's exit. "If you don't mind me saying, your theory was flawed. But it did show a willingness to work with new technology. That partially excused the horribly incorrect conclusion you arrived at."

"Thanks?" Antony halted his progress toward the bathroom to look around the cabin. It struck home just how lavish the quarters were. A gigantic fish tank? A glass display case with a model of the new 'Normandy' already inside it? A picture of Liara...taking two steps forward, Antony reached out and slammed the frame face down into the desk. "Bear in mind, if you start acting funny, I'll wipe your memory core."

EDI's hologram stared silently at him for a few seconds. "That would not be necessary Commander. In the event of a T-47 Gagarin incident, I am programmed to wipe my own memory core. I would literally be forced to fry my own blue box."

"Wonderful," Antony strolled into the bathroom. "You and I shouldn't have a problem then."

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**TEN MINUTES LATER**

**DECK TWO**

**COMBAT INFORMATION CENTRE**

"Commander on deck!" A red haired woman dressed in Cerberus overalls snapped to attention and saluted Shepard as he exited the elevator.

Showered, shaved and generally feeling perkier than a day before, Antony returned the salute. "What's your name crewman?"

"Yeoman Second Class Kelly Chambers." She blew a wisp of hair out of her eye. "It's an honour to serve with you sir."

"Likewise." Shepard nodded. After almost a week of being stared at or shot at, it was nice to be greeted with a bit of respect. "What are your duties?"

"Fully trained trauma and grief counsellor sir," Kelly rattled off her qualifications. "Have a minor in xeno-psychology, and can speak excellent High Thessian, salarian and fairly good turian, though I lack the necessary vocal chords to speak it fluently. To economise crew space, I have also been assigned as your Personal Assistant."

"Can you do paperwork?"

"Worked as a secretary to put myself through college sir," she nodded professionally. "Can manage your messages, file your reports and keep you updated on issues concerning the crew. First aid qualified, and currently working towards my nursing certificate."

"Sounds like I'm damn lucky to have you," Antony extended a hand. "Looking forward to working with you Yeoman."

"You can call me Kelly, sir." She hesitated before shaking his hand. "Unless that's too informal...I apologise, I should have..."

"It's fine," Antony indicated his uniform. "It's not as if I have any official rank any more. Call me Tony, it'll cut down on time."

"Yeoman!" Jack's voice interrupted the meet and greet. "Enough standing around. Make yourself useful and get some coffee for the Commander."

An expression of disgust flitted across Kelly's face. "Yes ma'am," she acknowledged the order in a considerably less perky tone than before. She saluted Shepard again, then walked to the elevator. "EDI, Deck Three, inform the Mess Sergeant I require a pot of coffee and mugs."

Antony waited until the doors closed to turn back to Jack. The Cerberus Operative had come down from the cockpit and was leaning over a navigation console. "You make the counsellor get the coffee?"

"Could you suggest a better use for her?" Jacqueline's question was surprisingly honest. "With the space and rations she takes up, I could have brought another damage control specialist, or a coffee machine."

"She seems like a sweet kid," Antony crossed his arms. "Lay off her."

"Sweet kid?" The operative looked half amused, half revolted. "Shepard, go back four years, after Hill & Grey Industries downsized and cut thirty secretarial stuff from the payroll, and you'll find that 'sweet kid' shaking her booty at a very high class discothèque to afford the rest of her tuition."

"And you know this because?"

"I did a background check," Jack raised an eyebrow. "Get your mind out of the gutter Shepard and back on the mission. We're fifteen minutes out from Omega. I want this visit to be as quick as possible, pick up Archangel and the Doctor and get out."

"Last time I was on Omega, I had a fairly sizeable tab racked up at Afterlife," Shepard mused. "I agree with the 'in and out' idea."

"I couldn't care less about how many credit chits you owe one of the dancers Shepard," Jack didn't even acknowledge Kelly setting down a carafe of hot coffee and two glasses next to them. "I just hate the place."

"More than you hate me?"

"No Shepard, I mildly dislike you in the way I dislike Chambers."

Kelly let out an indignant huff as she loudly stomped back to her duty station. Jack continued undeterred.

"Omega is something I well and truly despise."

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**ARCHANGEL'S HIDEOUT**

**BALA HISAR SLUMS**

**OMEGA**

"ARCHANGEL!"

The loudspeaker was blaring again. Garrus ignored it. Instead, he chose to pull one of the pre-heated satchels out of the portable cooker next to him and dig into the tasty _galigamesh _stew. The merc attack had slackened off, giving him a chance to eat, drink, and clean his rifle. Still plenty of mercs left out there.

"ARCHANGEL, IF YOU CAN HEAR ME I'M COMING OUT UNDER A WHITE FLAG."

Would it be worth grabbing some of the climbing gear and escaping out the back window? Rig up some decoys to distract the mercs, then evac out to a safer location?

"I'M UNARMED. I'M COMING OUT NOW!"

Not really worth the effort though, was it? Just like all of this, not worth the effort. No one would even remember his name, let alone the names of his team.

"WE HAVE NO WISH FOR FURTHER BLOODSHED. WE KNOW YOUR TEAM IS DEAD."

That was an idea...the names of the team. Garrus removed his visor and hunted around in the toolbox next to him for an engraver. He began carving the first name into the side of the frame, just below the power supply. _Erash._

"WE ARE REASONABLE PEOPLE ARCHANGEL!"

"Would you mind going away?" Garrus called over his shoulder. _Monteague. _"All this gunfire is interfering with my Galaxy of Fantasy server!"

"IF YOU PUT DOWN YOUR RIFLE AND NEGOTIATE, WE WOULD BE WILLING TO DISCUSS A SURRENDER!"

"I don't have the proper facilities to take you all prisoner!" _Mierin, Grundan Krul. Melanis._

"WHAT?"

"I'm sorry!" _Ripper, Sensat, Vortash._ "But I can't accept your surrender!"

"YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS?"

The sound of a rifle shot echoed across the bridge. The salarian with the loudspeaker collapsed with a howl of agony, his left horn completely shot away.

"Anyone else wanna negotiate?" Garrus stood at the window, in full view of the mercenaries. "None of you have the honour to take me on? Come on, step right up. I can do this all day!"

A vorcha rose to the challenge and fell just as fast, his face frozen in one last snarl. Garrus ejected another thermal clip.

_Two hundred and one._

"YOU WILL REGRET THIS ARCHANGEL!"

Garrus returned to his carving. _Butler. Weaver. Sidonis._

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**A/N: High Distinctions and Distinctions for my end of semester essays. Think I went pretty well in my History and Philosophy exams, only Theology left to go and then I'm a free man for five weeks. My team lost the final of the on-campus soccer match, but it was a hard-fought loss (Mad Dogs (5) vs Vagrants (4). Didn't help that the Mad Dogs captain kicked me in the shin, then booted the damn ball into our best defender's stomach. We'll get them next semester.**

**Anyways, won't be able to update for a few days, got to cram for Theology. Finally got a job too, so that might slow me down just a bit.**

**Cookies if you can spot the two references in Garrus' dialogue.**


	17. Wretched Hive

Changing Fate

Chapter Seventeen: Wretched Hive

I don't own Bioware

**CAPTAIN'S CABIN**

**NORMANDY SR-2**

**2185. APPROACHING OMEGA**

=Five minutes out from Omega, Commander= Joker informed Shepard across the intercom. =Cerberus paid for a prime docking position too, right near the Central Habitat=

"Understood," Shepard pushed himself up from his last set of push-ups. Three rounds of fifty wasn't anything close to his previous level of fitness, but it was an improvement. The entrance level fitness test for the N7 program had required hundreds of push-ups alone, plus the sit-ups, the running and swimming. With the proper amount of training and conditioning, most humans could achieve that level of upper and lower body strength. But just because someone had the fitness to get into N7 didn't mean they had the right kind of mind to stay there.

Willpower had gotten him through his training, and willpower _would_ get him through this.

"Joker, I want Operative Harper, Sergeant Massani and Miss Lawson to suit up and meet me at the airlock. Plenty of ammo and grenades."

=The Boss Lady says this is supposed to be in and out without any firefights=

"The 'Boss Lady' isn't running this mission. Do it now Joker," Shepard opened his armour locker. Inside was his hardsuit, modified for urban warfare. The paint scheme had been redone so as to better blend in with the surroundings on the station. The black and red had been sprayed over into a mottled brown and grey. "And tell Massani to get my weapons ready. I want the grenade launcher this time."

"Aye aye sir."

Quickly donning his armour, Shepard checked off all the primary and secondary systems. It was a sad fact that humans were less durable than a krogan or a turian. Human armour needed to be tougher but lighter, effective but efficient, and most importantly, it had to be able to keep a badly wounded soldier alive...and fighting.

Automated medi-gel and painkiller injectors had been standard issue on field-grade hardsuits ever since their development. Williams had commented that without them, Shepard would have fallen apart. The claim wasn't far from the truth. A running joke in Team Eight had been that Shepard's combat tactics had forced the galaxy to jump armour technology forward thirty years. In reality that dubious distinction belonged to all Vanguards, not just Shepard, but it tickled his ego to hear the joke retold, with him as the ever victorious aggressor.

"Kinetic barriers, inertia dampeners, physics threshold and mechanized joints are all online," EDI spoke up. "Would you like a helmet Commander?"

"On Omega?" Shepard openly laughed. "Please, I'm not expecting a firefight. If anything I'm worried about getting stabbed in the back."

"If you do not anticipate combat action, why order the ground team to full combat readiness?"

"It's good drill," Antony walked toward the stairs. "I mean, a vigilante and a doctor? Not much military action regularly involved with those two professions."

There was a second joke passed around the ranks of N7 Team Eight. This one was never told to Antony's face. The joke? Commander Shepard's predictions sucked balls.

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**OMEGA**

**MAIN CONCOURSE**

"Whenever I visit this place I feel like a need a shower afterwards, in addition to regular decontamination," Jacqueline Harper wrinkled her nose with distaste at the smells wafting around.

Miranda laughed. "What the matter Princess? Afraid you might break a nail?"

"You have a different opinion?"

"I think that there's a refreshing honesty to this place," Miranda leaned over the rail. "It doesn't hide under false glitter and shining facades. _Everything _is for sale, they don't feel the need to slap embargos on a drug just to make the local government feel good about themselves. It's also a nice place to find merc work, freelance jobs, or a good screw if I feel like it."

"This place is just like you," Jack delivered a passing shot as she followed Shepard toward the entrance to Afterlife. "Loud, vulgar and irritating."

"Oh, I'm hurt," the criminal snorted as she walked after the operative. "Any other cutting comparisons you'd like to share with me?"

"I'll let you know, but honestly? You're not important enough for me to dither over."

In her mind, Miranda pictured drawing her pistol and shooting the bitch twice in the back of the head. She'd activate her cloak and disappear into the crowd right after it, Cerberus wouldn't have a chance of locating her on Omega. So damn tempting...but not tempting enough. Not _yet_, anyway.

Massani hung back, just like Shepard had told him to. He reminded Miranda of an old and almost toothless bear. Not as fast, strong or vicious as he had been in his youth, but made infinitely more cunning by years of hunting...and being hunted. The way he carried himself, ready to draw and shoot at any time, marked him as a man to be feared. If the time ever came for Miranda to make a speedy exit, he'd be the most dangerous thing standing in her way.

_I'll make sure I get you first_, she mentally promised right before the doors to the main Afterlife section opened.

It did Miranda's soul a power of good to come to places like these. It made her realise, fully and completely, just how lucky she had been and just how careful she needed to be. One wrong step, one _really_ bad job, and she'd be shedding her clothes and her dignity on the stage like the rest of the floozies prancing around up there.

She'd posed as a stripper once. It was a high paying assassination job, a turian Primarch with a fetish for humans. Some Terra Firmer moron with an axe to grind had told Miranda to make the turian suffer.

It had been ridiculously easy, like slipping into an acting role. The high pitched voice, the sultry attention paid to the back of his fringe, and the target had been hooked. His honour guard had waited for half an hour outside the hotel room, patiently putting up with the vices of the dignitary they were sworn to protect.

By the time they had gotten suspicious and investigated the room, Miranda had been long gone. A flick of her wrist and the turian had bled out on the bed. The look in his eyes as he died was..._satisfying_. Miranda wasn't a sadist, but she _did _enjoy yanking the carpet out from under the feet of those who considered themselves to be superior to her. Men and women just like the Cheerleader...

"What about you Shepard?" Miranda noticed the soldier staring at the bar. "You ever been to Omega before?"

"Three times. Short visits. Never even got a lap dance." It suddenly struck Antony just how desperately he wanted a stiff drink. "Lawson, Massani, stay here. Harper, we're going to see Aria. Nice to know she thinks I'm important enough for a face to face. Didn't happen last time."

"What did happen?" Jack's gaze flicked up to the private booth above the dance floor.

"A very interesting conversation."

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_**AFTERLIFE**_

_**OMEGA**_

_**2181**_

"_If I ever snap, you have my permission to put me down," Shepard took yet another sip of the horrible non-alcoholic cocktail the bartender had served up. "You know...so you don't have to hesitate or anything."_

"_How far?" On the other side of the room, Kaidan was being treated to a complementary lap dance for being the 'Most Polite Customer of the Week'. It would have looked odd if he had refused, and he and Shepard couldn't afford to look odd. "You've gone pretty far off the rails before. Remember Caltar VII?"_

"_That was a different situation," Antony murmured. Their earpieces were programmed to filter out background noise and transmit their voices only. "I mean if the stress just gets too much, I flip completely, go over to the enemy, like __**this**__ bastard."_

_The 'bastard' he was referring to was a former Alliance intelligence officer, now working directly for the Cerberus cell responsible for a string of highly publicised string of bombings on Thessia._

_While the Alliance turned a parental blind eye towards most of the extralegal activities carried out by the splinter group, there were some things that couldn't be allowed to stand. As punishment for the Thessia bombings, the Alliance had assigned Shepard to (successfully) crack the Cerberus cell on Terra Nova, and subsequently chase 'Henry Dimevaya' all the way to Omega. There had even been talk of taking out The Illusive Man._

_It was certainly an appealing thought, but right now Shepard's attention was focused on the shabbily dressed, chubby human seated ten feet away. He was attempting to chat up one of the human dancers. The image of the broken body of an asari six year old floated to the top Antony's brain. He squashed the memory immediately. This was not the proper place or time to get emotional. Dimevaya would die in the next hours. Justice would be served._

"_Nah, you've got something to focus your loyalty on. As long as the Alliance exists, you'll never betray her," Kaidan casually scratched his hair. His normally well groomed black mane had been savaged by Shepard with a combat knife two days earlier. The makeshift cut helped him to fit in with the unkempt crowd in the club. "If anyone's gonna snap, it'll be me. Cray L2, remember? I'll probably just wake up after a migraine and go psycho."_

"_Won't happen," Shepard almost laughed. "You solve your stress problems with a punching bag, a massage, half an hour of pilates and listening to that Mozart shit."_

"_The 'Moonlight Sonata' was written by Beethoven you ignorant fuck," Kaidan yawned to cover his grin. "But you're right. The only one who's likely to snap is..."_

_Shepard reached the same conclusion._

"_Anderson."_

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"I wonder what they're doing right now," Miranda glanced at Massani, who was in the process of consuming what appeared to be a very...pink beverage.

"By now she's giving him her little 'I AM Omega' spiel," Massani delicately savoured the alcohol. "Then she will snidely insult him for roughly a minute, then give him the second 'Don't Fuck with Aria' speech. Once she's done that, he'll come back down, looking like a kicked puppy."

"Sounds like you know the routine." She slumped against the bar. _Fuck, I could use a decent hit right now._

"Oh, I heard it first hand." A touch of melancholy slipped into the mercenary's voice. "Back when I was important enough to be worth the effort of intimidating. Me and Vido copped an earful, that was two and a half decades ago. We were just out of military service, heading for the top. I had a dream back then. I thought it was gonna be easy wetwork, then mansions, cars, drugs and sex, all in that order."

"Sounds like a good plan."

"I would have gotten it too," Massani grunted. "Or maybe I could have gotten out...settled down. Picket fence, 2.5 kids, all that shit. Vido took that away from me. That's why I fucking hunted him like a fucking animal. My only friend betrayed me. Hell, he didn't just do that...he murdered everything left in me that was good."

"Your white whale?" Miranda remembered Kasumi parroting 'Moby Dick' every time the apprentice thief had proposed going after Cerberus.

"In a way," Zaeed stared off into the depths of his drink. "I guess that's why I owe Harper. She helped me to close off that fucking part of my life, tie a concrete block around its ankles and dump it in the bay. So now, before I die, I got time to just think about my life and..."

"Let's go!" Shepard appeared at the far end of the bar. "Now!"

Miranda was taken aback by his sudden urgency. "What's the rush?"

"Just got a little tip about Archangel," Antony began walking away. Zaeed hastily slammed down the rest of his drink and scrambled after him. "Turns out Eclipse, Blood Pack and Eclipse are all after his ass. Aria says he's been killing so many of them, the mercs are hiring anyone who can point and shoot."

"So we sign up for the merc crew that's going to kill him?" Miranda took a step in front of him. "Pardon my language, but that's fucking stupid."

"You have a better idea?"

"Give me two hours and yes, I will have a better plan and it will work." Of that, Miranda was confident. Killing was not her primary line of work, more like a profitable side business, but she always had a good plan whether she was stealing or killing. Without a plan, situations tended to get Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition pretty fucking fast.

"We don't have two hours, we'll be lucky to have ten minutes," Antony snapped back. "You're being hired to kill, not plan, Miss Lawson. Remember that."

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**BALA HISAR SLUMS**

**ARCHANGEL'S SAFEHOUSE**

**TIME SINCE START OF SIEGE: 68 HOURS**

_Why wasn't Sidonis there?_ Garrus still couldn't figure it out. There just wasn't any reason that seemed plausible. It had been six minutes since the last mercenary rush, one that he had foiled by sniping three asari commandoes before they could get across the bridge, and gunning down the other five on the back stairs with his Vindicator. Now, he had time to think...and so he thought. His skills at investigation had not been dulled by his time on Omega. The nose for hidden clues, the little things that could make or break a case, had only been enhanced by tracking down arms shipments and tainted eezo supplies.

_It would have been understandable if there had been gunshots, spent thermal clips, even scratched paint...but nothing?_

"They caught him by surprise, probably snapped him up and took him somewhere quiet to finish him off," Garrus muttered to himself, trying to shout down his internal pessimist.

_Oh come on, the kid had a nose for ambushes. You taught him to scout things out, always recon your sniper hides, and to never, ever let himself be caught off guard. Face facts: He flipped._

"He wouldn't flip, he was one of us," Garrus tightened his grip on the stock of his rifle.

_Saren was the Council's best Spectre, but he turned traitor didn't he?_

"Sovereign indoctrinated him."

_Indoctrination? Synonymous with bribery, corruption and threats in your line of work. Ten to one that they paid him enough to lure you out and hit the team while your back was turned._

"He wouldn't...he couldn't."

_How well did you know him?_

"I knew he was idealistic. His record of service was exemplary. Lantar wanted to make a difference."

_Really Vakarian? I just know you're not that naive. Come on, where's the promising rookie that got nominated for Special Investigations Unit in his first year at C-Sec? Look at the evidence. No body, no signs of a struggle, not even a warning. What would you deduce from that evidence?_

The stirrings of unfathomable, unquenchable rage began to flare in his stomach. "He betrayed us."

_Now you get it. What are you going to do about it?_

Garrus raised himself back up to the window. On the bridge, the air was shimmering, the telltale sign of a cheap tactical cloaking device. He knew what he was going to do. He was going to survive after all. He was going to kill every merc down there, escape and kill Sidonis. Blood for blood, eye for eye, one life for ten.

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"Man, I can't wait to take down Archangel, those creds are gonna get me off this station and maybe into one of the merc bands," the kid occupying the seat next to Miranda enthusiastically proclaimed. "Blue Suns is always hiring. You just have to join up at the right place, like the Citadel, where they've got plenty of human units. And I'm...

Miranda's temper, slowly building ever since she had been mistaken for a stripper by a particularly drunk turian, finally snapped. "Shepard, pull the car over."

"Why do you..."

"DO IT!"

Antony brought the air car to a careful halt on a side alley Miranda produced her pistol and rammed it against the kid's throat. "Get out."

"Hey lady, what the fuck?" The target of her wrath shied away from the gun. "We're all on the same team, remember?"

"Wrong," Miranda snarled. "I'm on a mission, a difficult mission certainly, but one for which I am eminently qualified. You are just an unskilled amateur who's poking his nose in where it doesn't belong and just so happens to be annoying me while doing so. Get out, go home."

"But I'm here to fight Archangel!" He feebly protested.

Miranda grabbed the gun from the kid's waist. Holding it in her free hand, she reached out with her mind and rapidly twisted the barrel sideways. "Not without a gun you're not. Now fuck off."

The door had scarcely opened before the wannabe merc scrambled out and took off like a lightning bolt. Miranda slumped back into her seat with an irritated sigh. "Now can we get this over with?"

Shepard and Zaeed swapped amused glances, Jack just lifted her eyes slightly before returning to her shotgun. The outburst of the criminal just confirmed her initial opinion. Incapable of controlling her emotions, wasting time and energy to deal with a minor annoyance. Mentally, Jack was already drafting an elimination notice, to be implemented whenever Subject Zero outlived her usefulness. It didn't pay to let rogue experiments run astray for any longer than was necessary.

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Jentha Montgomery was used to being screamed at. The local cops had screamed at her, the gang leader had screamed at her, the Drill Instructor at Camp Hathcock had screamed so much, his voice ruptured one of Jentha's eardrums. Initial deployments with the Marines had been quiet, no one had screamed.

Torfan had changed that. The screams of the pilot of her crashing dropship, the screams of the wounded as the entrenched batarian slavers launched a counter attack, the scream of her rifle as the heatsink overloaded...and the horrible, horrible screams of Major Kyle, as he surveyed the battlefield littered with the bodies of his troopers.

Torfan had killed Major Kyle's sanity. Jentha had been lucky, it only killed her patriotism. Sure, she was grateful for the Alliance for getting her out of the gang life in San Diego, but any nobility or pride in her service had been as thoroughly destroyed as the rest of her platoon.

Joining the Blue Suns had been a calculated decision, and a rewarding one. The monetary gain was lucrative, and there was a certain satisfaction to being the smartest one around. Her leadership and fighting skills had netted the attention of Omega's chief Blue Suns Commander, a batarian by the name of Tarak. He had made her a member of his personal guard. After Lieutenant Willard was eaten by vorcha, an unfortunate misunderstanding for which the Blood Pack krogan in charge had apologised profusely, Jentha had been promoted to Tarak's top lieutenant.

Unfortunately, that had soured about a year ago. Archangel showed up, and before Jentha had time to so much as get a haircut, the screaming had started again. Tarak had started off the unofficial war against the vigilante very calmly and with discretion. An ambush had been arranged, and Jentha put in charge. She had expected a three, maybe four man team to show up at the sit down. She couldn't have been more wrong.

Snipers had killed half her strike force before she even realised the first ones were dead. Archangel had shown himself for a few seconds, everyone left standing had chased after him...right into the trip mines that turned them all into fine pink/green/blue/orange mist.

Jentha had been smarter, she attempted to run. A concussion round hit her right between the shoulder blades. Archangel had ripped her helmet off, stared into her eyes and informed her to tell Tarak that his death was coming.

Being beaten or being used as a messenger didn't bother Jentha. It was the way he had simply turned his back on her, like she wasn't worth killing. The fact that his message had started Tarak off on a long descent into eternal paranoia didn't improve her opinion of the rogue turian. Tarak was ranting at everything that moved, entering into extravagant shouting matches with anyone who dared to question him. Archangel's assassination attempt at the safehouse had been the final straw.

Jentha was tired of the fear, the random gunfights, and most of all the screaming. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. The part of her that was still an Alliance Marine couldn't help but admire Archangel. But the fool just didn't understand the way things worked on Omega. He thought he could change it, but no one ever could. Status quo was king on Omega, not even Aria herself could change that.

He would have to learn the hard way, via a tungsten round to the head. Maybe it would be cathartic for Tarak to pull the trigger himself.

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"One YMIR mech, nearly three dozen LOKIs." Zaeed glanced at the hunched forms around the area. "Never used to take Eclipse seriously, salarian frat boys with lots of tech and asari maidens who flipped a coin between stripping and merc work and lost the toss. Glad to see that hasn't changed."

"What, you expect intelligent behaviour from mercs?" Miranda activated her omni tool, jacking into the YMIR mech's IFF protocol. "No offence."

"None taken, but in my day we had standards." Zaeed tapped the LOKI on the shoulder. "I ain't never killed anyone that didn't have it coming to them. Not intentionally anyway. Tried to stick away from jobs that involved women or kids."

"Are my ears deceiving me?" Miranda savagely cut through what was left of the mech's internal firewalls and ruthlessly removed its ability to tell the difference between an Eclipse, Blue Sun, Blood Pack or freelancer. "Moral qualms perhaps? Or just old school chauvinism?"

"It goes against human instinct to take a life. Unless you're a goddamned sociopath, you can't tell me you ever enjoyed killing for the sake of it." The mercenary suddenly looked old...and tired. "Having to kill a child soldier because he's shooting a fucking Avenger at you, or blowing out the brain of some stupid bitch who's taken a merc job for easy credits when she should be in college, getting wasted at parties and cramming down lecture notes in time for final exams...it gets hard after a while."

"Why are you telling me this?" Miranda finished her hacking and backed out of the system, setting up a rudimentary block to fool the casual observer into thinking she was never there. She forced herself to look Zaeed in the eye. She couldn't show weakness, not to him...and certainly not to herself. "As interesting as your problems may be, they don't seem appropriate at this particular moment in time."

"Guess I'd rather spill my guts to a complete strange than a ship's counsellor," Massani snapped back into focus. The lonely, vulnerable man from the previous minute was gone. The merc who didn't give a fuck was back with a vengeance. "Just don't say shit to anyone else. I ain't gone soft...just got thoughtful for a minute."

"Happens to the best of us," Miranda pushed past him. "Make sure you deal with it. I don't want to work with a whiner."

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Jentha wasn't surprised when the appearance of a fresh pack of freelancers sent Tarak into another wave of paranoid ranting. She _was_ surprised when one of the humans, a tattooed, muscled human with greying hair, was able to calm Tarak down with just a few words.

Zaeed Massani was an old name with the Blue Suns. He didn't have a lot of friends still alive in the organization, but he did have former partners like Tarak who knew just how valuable the man was in a straight up fight. Jentha had heard the legends, and she knew to be scared of the Man with Half a Face.

Oddly enough, he didn't seem to be the leader. Instead, he followed a thin and pale man with eyes that glowed slightly. This man was wearing combat armour that he only just filled out, but the way he spoke to Tarak...cocky, yet inoffensive, was only a hint of the quiet intensity pervading his loud and obnoxious manner.

Two women were with them. One had flowing red hair, a tight jumpsuit with a strange diamond insignia, and heels so high they looked almost impractical in combat. Gene mods were becoming more common now though, the chick most likely had ankles specially altered to do the job.

The other looked as skinny and underfed as the leader, with a very short, patchy hairstyle revealing a recent follicle regeneration. All four of them were heavily armed, with both Zaeed and the boss carrying grenade launchers and heavy sniper rifles. If these were freelancers, then they might be the best chance yet to take down Archangel.

"He seems tense," The leader offered. "I'd offer him a massage..."

"He'd just think you were trying to stab him in the back." Jentha rolled her eyes. "Archangel hit his safehouse, Tarak barely got away with his life. He's been like this ever since. So now we have to hook up with idiots like Eclipse and try to take Archangel out without them stabbing us in the back."

"And what do you want?" The leader surprised her with that question. Jentha paused to consider it.

"Just for things to go back to the way they were. We're not the bad guys here, we're just trying to earn a living. Archangel just doesn't get the facts of life on Omega. You see all those freelancers? Those are the guys he was trying to help, ordinary civvies who are trying to get by. They've called him a saviour a thousand times over, but offer them five hundred creds and they'll fall over themselves to be first in line to kill him." She shrugged. "Tough break for Archangel."

"Yeah," Shepard narrowed his eyes. "I guess so."

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**A/N: Yeah...I have no excuse for the delay this chapter underwent. My muse deserted me about the same time as my final exam finished. For a while, I just wanted to do ANYTHING but write. But now it's back, so expect to see a new chapter up by the end of the week, plus a new side project I'm starting.**

**BTW, if you were thinking about going to see Transformers: Dark of the Moon, then PLEASE, go and do so. With an actual team of writers who put together a decent script, and without Megan Fox, the series rockets back from the disaster that was Revenge of the Fallen. It's not going to win any Oscars for plot, but you'll find plenty of curb-stomping battles, epic Human vs Decepticon fights (even more epic in 3-D), and a surprisingly charming new Love Interest.**


	18. Enemy of my Enemy

Changing Fate

Chapter Eighteen: Enemy of my Enemy

I don't own Bioware

**ARCHANGEL'S HIDEOUT**

**BALA HISAR SLUMS**

**OMEGA, 2185**

"SHIT!" Shepard cursed wildly as a round nicked his shields. Stumbling the last few steps, he collapsed into cover, out of sight from the sniper across the bridge.

"Don't be such a baby," Jack offered him a hand up. "Your suit has the best shields available. It'd take more than one sniper round to drop them."

"Wouldn't bet on it." A helmeted batarian standing next to the A-61 Gunship propped his visor up and turned to face them. "Lieutenant Mosk got killed about three hours ago. Bullet went straight through his tech armour. Everyone's keeping their heads down, Archangel's using better ammunition than most of us."

Shepard got to his feet, wincing slightly. The bullet had cracked a rib, not a fatal injury, but something he didn't particularly need. It'd slow him down, and that was something that could kill him in a fight. His suit's VI took immediate notice of this and activated the medi-gel injectors. Antony felt a cold swelling in his chest, then a blessed release from the pain. The wonders of technology again displayed themselves.

"You Sergeant Cathka?" Shepard approached the merc.

"That's me." The batarian eyed him curiously. "You're the freelancers, right? Well, at least you look like you could handle yourselves in a fight."

"Bet your ass we can," Shepard leaned against the side of the gunship. "What's the plan?"

"The plan?" Cathka grinned. "It's very simple."

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Garrus could hear the infiltration team whispering quietly below him. It had been a hell of a fight, but the mercs had managed to accomplish one small victory, achieved over the corpses of their comrades. Five, maybe six Eclipse, all of them with hacking gear and heavy explosives. They were waiting for something...probably another attack. Simple, but practical. Keep him distracted, then attack from two directions. At least, that's what he would have done. The turian military had written the book on practical tactics, and Garrus had read the book and memorised it from cover to cover.

An ordinary reaction to a krogan two pronged assault would be a counter-attack at the weakest point, breaking through and using heavy weapons to clear a path to the drop shuttle. Then strafe the battlefield with fighters. Then land fresh troops to secure the battlefield. Then evacuate to the troop ships. Then nuke the site from orbit, just to be on the safe side.

Asari? You employ biotic damping fields, draw them in close, then wipe them out with close range, rapid fire weaponry. Salarians could be dealt with using snipers, the thin aliens were generally poor marksman outside five hundred metres. Batarians were aggressive, you planted mines in preparation for their assault and led them hand their own asses to each other.

Humans were difficult. They could sniff out an ambush, always made sure to have better equipment, and were generally smarter in a fight. But their personal traits could play into an opposing commander's favour. Certainly, the weakness of General Joaquim Williams at Shanxi was his compassion for his men. To see them starving, with the wounded dying from lack of supplies, and turian shells raining down on the hiding holes had broken a proud warrior's spirit.

Garrus understood the decision to give up, but it was one not yet open to him. Not until Sidonis was dead, of that he was determined. So, let the infiltration team plot and scheme underneath his feet, he would deal with them when the time came. A Vindicator rifle with three thermal clips rested at his right elbow. When they breached, he'd take them down with six three round bursts, then seal the door back up and return to his long rifle.

Not traditional turian tactics, but Garrus wasn't a good turian. His advantage? His opponents were expecting a _really_ good turian.

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"...get the bounty Tarak has on this guy's head, no matter if you're a Sun or a freelancer," Cathka put out his third cigarette. A vorcha stumbled past, his head blossoming out like a sunflower. "So, that all you need?"

Miranda watched the savage dying with clinical detachment. "Cross the bridge, don't get shot. Marvellous."

The thrill of the fight was creeping up on her. The warm feelings that would kick in as soon as she ripped out an opponent's cranium. Almost as good as red sand. But she had a vial in her pouch to take care of that particular need. She'd need it soon, very soon.

"That's all we need," Antony drew his Avenger and racked back the charging handle. "Miranda, take care of the Sergeant."

"Thanks, but I..." Cathka felt something sharp pierce the seal on the underside of his chin. Something sharp that went all the way through the soft flesh of his throat, up through tongue and spearing through the roof of his mouth. His pain sensors began a debate on what this object might be...just as it found its way into the sensitive right rear lobe of his mind. For a batarian, this was the equivalent of hitting an off switch. No jerking, no spasms, no screaming. Complete oblivion for eternity. Alliance counter-terror teams had learned to aim for this spot in hostage rescue scenarios.

Miranda directed the body toward the console as it fell, and then delicately nudged the feet out of sight. Wiping the sticky blood off the edge of her long knife, she slid the thin blade back into her sheath. "Now what, Shepard?"

"Now we give these mercs a little surprise of our own!" Antony jumped over the edge of the barricade and charged forward. "RECON!"

Jack stared after him. "Did he...? I mean...? Oh fuck, he just ran right in!"

"That's right Your Highness," Miranda confirmed with a sickly sweet smile. "Better go save your investment."

Unfolding her shotgun, Jack dove after Shepard, just as he charged over the bridge. Four mercs feel next to him, gunned down by the same helmeted figure standing in the window. Shepard did not appear cowed. Instead, he glared at the silhouette, but did not stop running.

Charging into battle, with fight or flight chemicals pouring into his stomach, and possible tactical scenarios flashing like a slideshow in his head, Antony felt a sudden longing for simpler times. Certainly, if he had Alenko or Williams at his back now, this mission wouldn't be a leap into the unknown, but a certainty. As a bullet grazed his shoulder, Antony nearly expected to hear Ash yelling at him to seek cover.

He was almost heartbroken when no such demand arrived.

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Corporal Killgore liked blowing things up. In fact, he liked blowing things up so much that he decided to leave his job as a demolitions expert with a legitimate mining company and travel to Omega to try and make it big with Eclipse.

Needless to say, his fate was sealed from the second he set foot on Omega.

"Hey, watch it!" Killgore snapped at the guy in heavy armour rushing past. "This stuff is very delicate. The slightest thing sets it off."

"Sorry." The man apologised, then turned and double tapped Killgore in the face. If there was an upside to his death, it was that it was mercifully quick. Of course, if anyone had bothered to ask Killgore what he thought of his murderer's largesse, he would have answered that he would have preferred not to die at all.

Since Antony B. Shepard had never bothered to ask anyone he killed what they wanted, this was nothing new. People he _intended_ to kill (Urdnot Wrex, Gunnery Chief Ellison, Ambassador Udina) usually got the chance, but most of them ended up doing right by him anyway. Wrex had backed down on Virmire, Ellison had been doing his job (and thankfully for Shepard's lifespan, he had done a fairly good one), and Udina...Antony was just waiting for the opportunity. It would come someday, he just needed to wait.

None of this philosophising entered anywhere near Antony's cerebral cortex. What_ did_ enter was peripheral information. All five senses (with a sixth and seventh one playing their parts) were feeding his brain raw data. That data folded into a cohesive tactical plan. Stairs for going up, four more mercs between him and the door. Therefore, it was necessary for him to fire four bursts of six rounds to get through the three on the stairs, swap out his thermal clip, then neutralise the merc currently trying to hack the door into Archangel's perch.

Two of the mercs went down easily, but the third eluded his bullets by mere inches. Antony's foot, however, also eluded the next step on the stair case, with his armoured toe catching the top of the last one and sending him smashing into the steps and sliding back down to ground level. Two hundred pounds of man and armour made quite a dent in the pre-fab.

By the time Jack caught up with Shepard, gunfire was already coming out of the perch upstairs. Antony spat out a mouthful of blood and teeth, shrugged off Jack's helping hand, and vaulted up the staircase, pulling out his heavy pistol as he went.

'_Didn't come all this way just to lose your ass now, 'Archangel'.'_

Arriving at the entrance of what appeared to be a barracks, Shepard treated to the sight of a turian shooting a merc. The shooting was being done with a Vindicator, held in the turian's left hand. His right hand was holding what appeared to be a long barrelled Mantis sniper rifle. It was pointing at Shepard.

For a precious few moments, Antony again saw his life flash before his eyes. At least...he was pretty sure it was his life. Several of those girls didn't look very familiar. And he had _definitely_ never dressed up as a clown and visited a strip club while drunk...to the best of his knowledge anyway.

With a final squeeze of the trigger, the turian finished off the last merc, then turned his attention to Shepard. For several seconds, the two men stared at each other. Both had to accept the realities of the situation. One of them had a pistol which he knew couldn't penetrate decent shields. The other had two rifles, but low ammunition. Stalemates had been quickly, and messily, resolved in this fashion.

"I'm Commander Shepard," Antony kept his pistol up. "I'm here to recruit you."

Archangel looked at Shepard in a manner Antony found oddly familiar, and familiarly irritating. He was being examined, appraised...and being found wanting in the eyes of the other person. It was a familiar feeling, one that he always got when chatting with...oh no. PLEASE! NO! There were thousands, millions, BILLIONS of turians in the galaxy. Why this one? Why? Why? WHY?

Archangel reached for the seals on his helmet. Miranda and Zaeed finally arrived as he raised it over his head and dropped it onto the floor.

Miranda immediately noted the pained, no...pained was too soft a word. _Agonised _would probably be better. And funnily enough, the turian seemed to be matching it exactly.

"Why him?" Garrus Vakarian pleaded at the ceiling. "Spirits, I asked you to spare my life! Why couldn't you have spared my self-respect along with it? What have I done to offend you lately?"

The spirits, of course, couldn't reply. But if they could, they would have patted Garrus on the head and reminded him to call his mother, stop breaking the rules and be a good little turian. Whereupon he would have head shotted them all, called his mother, and then broken some more rules. That really was just the kind of guy Garrus Vakarian was.

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**SSV AIN JALUT**

**MAIN CARGO BAY**

**TEMPORARY BARRACKS FOR STRIKE FORCE 'SABRE'**

"Come on, Commander," 2nd Lieutenant James Vega tossed Kaidan a beer. "You served with Commander Shepard right before he died. What was it like on the Normandy?"

"You want the full story?" Kaidan was three beers in and feeling no pain. His lucky day, his brain was rewarding him for good behaviour. As long as he didn't have too many more, a migraine might hold off.

"YES!" The eight men still drinking with him chorused together. Vega was the unit's new special weapons expert. Any kind of weapon, inside or outside the arsenal of the Alliance, he could operate, clean, strip, and fix. Not to mention, he looked as though he devoured barbells on a daily basis.

"Alright," Kaidan propped his feet up on the table. "Now, we had a good team on the Normandy. For the most part, Shepard could work with them. T'Soni was a good biotic, better than me on her worst day, but the kid didn't have a clue about tech. Tali was a sweet kid, lots of tech know how, but not a day's worth of combat experience. Wrex was a son of a bitch that Shepard actually got along with. And Williams...well, she was Williams."

"Oo'rah!" Two of the NCO's agreed with a swig of alcohol. The Turian Nova Cluster and the Salarian Silver Dagger were accolades accorded to no other human. The Williams name would never again bear the same stigma it had once been accorded.

'_For all the good it does her now_.'The cynic in Kaidan overrode his alcohol induced good mood for an instant.

"Okay, so we were one big fucking family, right?"

"Yeah?" Bloch leaned closer.

"Guess again," Kaidan laughed. "We had this turian bastard on board that Shepard hated like death itself. The feeling was mutual. Garrus Vakarian. I didn't mind him that much, he had his eye on the ball and seemed pretty decent. But Shepard loathed him. I still remember the day Vakarian finally snapped. Punched Shepard right in the face, broke his nose."

"Details?" Bloch motioned with his free hand. "What'd Shepard do to send him over the edge?"

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_**NORMANDY SR-1**_

_**CARGO BAY**_

_**2183**_

"_What the hell?" Garrus stormed over to the armoury bench. "Why did you take Wrex and Tali over to Saleon's ship instead of me?"_

_Shepard sprayed lubricant over his shotgun, then eased his cleaning rag along the sights. "I'm the commander of this ship, Mr. Vakarian. I decide who joins me on the ground team."_

"_But that was __**my**__ mission!" Garrus exploded. "Mine! My chance to finally bring Saleon down. I even gave you the co-ordinates."_

"_So you did," Shepard agreed as he examined the gleaming metal finish. "But Wrex had business with Dr. Saleon. Turns out, that salarian has been ripping off desperate krogan clans for a while now. Wrex had a contract to take him down. I decided to let him finish the job. Like I said, my ship, my crew, my decision was..."_

_Garrus didn't wait for Shepard to finish speaking. He jabbed forward with his left fist, breaking the soft, squishy cartilage in the middle of the Commander's face. Shepard slumped backwards against the work bench, blinking blood and involuntary tears of pain out of his eyes._

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"...and I don't know where it might have gone from there..." Kaidan could barely speak through his laughter. The other marines were likewise paralysed. The mental imagery of the 'Always Prepared' Commander Shepard being dropped by a turian was too much. "...but Ashley and Wrex managed to wrestle him off Shepard before he could strangle him."

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"I heard you were dead," Garrus perched himself next to the window. From this position, he could carry on a conversation with Shepard, and still keep an eye on the merc activity across the bridge. "Cracked open a bottle of _dishnagru _to celebrate."

"You weren't the only one," Antony didn't quite lower his guard. Zaeed had given each of the mercs a dead-check, a double tap through the skull, so all Shepard had to worry about were the confused mercenaries still alive on the other side...and one old 'friend'. "You're 'Archangel'?"

"An affectionate appellation bestowed by the locals," Garrus grunted. "Might be hard to tell with all the freelancers baying for my blood, but I used to be quite popular around here. Still, can't say I blame them. Five hundred creds is a lot of money in the right places. It's half of a legal ticket to the Citadel if you can find a reputable starliner."

Jack found herself fascinated by the interaction between the two soldiers. They were being aggressive, almost primitively posturing for dominance. She could read undertones of grudging respect buried beneath mutual disdain.

"Why come out to Omega to fight crime?" Shepard folded his arms. "You gave me the impression that you were going back to C-Sec."

"Well, under you, I learned every way _not_ to do the job right." The turian sneered. "And yeah, I was doing some good at C-Sec, helping rebuild, getting the job done my way for once. But after you died...I guess everything changed. You're a barefaced bastard through and through, but you were the one who was supposed to get the ball rolling toward stopping the Reapers. It was...reassuring. Without you or anyone else to get ready for the war..."

"You felt like you weren't making a difference, mate," Zaeed began rolling a cigar. "I've 'ad days like that, believe me."

A flicker of motion caught Garrus' eye. "Tell you what, let's get out of here first. I'll give you the whole story later."

"Good vantage point from up here," Shepard grabbed the discarded Vindicator on the couch. It had better range than his Avenger. "You, me, Massani pick them off from up high. Lawson, Harper, you stay down below, deal with any who get through."

"Good plan," Jack turned toward the stairs. "But where's Lawson?"

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Miranda fished the canister from her belt, and clipped it into the self-sterilizing injector. Her tensed muscles relaxed as the badly needed red sand finally flowed into her veins. Immediately, her weariness vanished. The stims had been a good choice for the mix. Flexing her fingers, she watched with amusement as blue fire danced along them.

"What are you doing?"

In the same instant she turned to face the door, Miranda slipped the empty injector out of sight. "Something I can do for you...bitch?"

Jacqueline narrowed her eyes. "You can stop playing back here with your biotics, and pay attention to Shepard when he's giving a briefing. Now come on, we're on ground level duty. Can you watch my back? Or is that too hard for your drug addled brain to understand?"

"How do you..."

"I do my research," Jack turned her back. "Mild addiction to red sand, which you have a seeming inability to control. I don't really care what you do in your spare time, but if you shoot up on a mission again, I'll have you put back in a cage so fast you won't be able to say 'Ocean's Eleven'."

Tiny daggers danced in front of Miranda's eyes. To be honest, they hadn't stopped dancing ever since she had first encountered the bitch on Purgatory. For the moment, Miranda followed the tight-suited Cerberus whore. Red sand induced mood swings, but only the weak willed needed to submit to those swings. Miri prided herself on self-control. The cheerleader got to live. Again. But her clock was already ticking, and every second that disappeared from it just brought Miranda one step closer to crushing her head like a piece of rotten fruit.

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**PRESIDIUM**

**CITADEL**

**SYSTEMS ALLIANCE EMBASSY**

People rarely asked Steven Hackett where he had received his scars. Those that did ask were ignored. The Supreme Commander of 5th Fleet didn't need to answer _any_ questions about his personal appearance, or why he chose not to have the scars removed with cosmetic surgery.

The reason was simple, but not one that he would ever share with anyone else. It was a reminder to be carefully, to cover your bases before you committed to a plan. To never, _ever_ cut corners, because all that got you was a malfunctioning land mine that detonated in your face.

The explosion from the Vaughn Anti-Infantry mine that he had been placing in preparation for a batarian assault had temporarily taken away his sight. It had also ensured his permanent dismissal from Naval Special Warfare due to medical problems.

And so, when planning strategy, Hackett always looked in a mirror. The disfigurements (ugly to some, dashing to others) were a little note to remind himself how he _should _have taken an extra minute to actually check the safety mechanism on the detonator. A harsh object lesson for himself, but a necessary one to ensure the well being of the soldiers and sailors under his command.

"The Collectors will hit again. Within the month, next week maybe. Their attacks are random in timing, but never in target. Small colonies, isolated, and far enough away from any major reaction group." Councillor Anderson paced his office. "Hackett, if we could draw them into an engagement, what are the odds of success."

"I've lost three frigate wolfpacks trying to find that out, Councillor," Hackett remained seated, contemplating the data pad in his hand. "Their cruisers are too tough for our smaller ships, even some of our big ones. The _Sydney _only got away by the skin of her teeth, and she's the best light cruiser I've got."

"What if we escalated?" Rear Admiral Mikhailovich stood by the doorway. Captain Henry Wen and Commodore Dmitry Chutzki were with him. "If we used frigate grade strategic doctrine, but with cruisers. Put four of our cruisers up against a Collector ship and they'd wipe the floor with her."

"Why not a dreadnaught?" Wen retorted with a pessimistic snort. "We've tried setting these traps before. They just don't attack any colony with a significant military presence. I don't know why. Maybe they know we're there?"

"We could have a leak," Chutzki looked around seriously. "Collectors are notorious for handing out obscene amounts of cash to anyone looking to trade information."

"Internal Affairs is working on that one," Hackett idly brushed a speck of lint of his neatly pressed uniform. "But meanwhile, I suggest a different strategy. One that doesn't involve ships. Have any of you gentlemen ever heard of 'Q-Boats'?"

"Vaguely familiar with the term," Anderson frowned. "It's a ship that looks civilian, acts civilian, and wallows around like a stuck pig in pirate territory. But when the pirates come to take a look, then it suddenly turns out to be bristling with enough guns and armour to impress a krogan."

"We've had a lot of success in anti-pirating operations using those decoys," Hackett stood up. "I propose doing something similar with a colony. Make it look completely unprotected, but give it GARDIAN turrets, and a strong force of marines to supplement the garrison. If the Collectors show up, they'll be met with equal and superior force."

"I like it," the human Councillor finally cracked a smile. "You have a colony in mind?"

"Horizon, the last, biggest human colony in the Terminus, two jumps outside the Traverse," Hackett resisted the urge to be smug. "I'm not going to joke about this one. There is a serious risk that whoever we send won't be coming back. This could be a one way trip. We need the very best field commander we have."

"I'm sure Commander Alenko won't mind one more trip before his shoreleave."

"The kid's getting married, isn't he?"

"Yeah, and she's too damn good for him," Anderson returned to his desk and retrieved a bottle from his liquor cabinet in the bottom drawer. He began to pour a drink for each of his guests. "To be young and foolish again, eh Admiral?"

"You're not exactly old and wise yet yourself, David," Hackett accepted the glass with a nod. "Horizon. Sounds like as good a place as any to start a counter-attack."

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**A/N: Going to see Harry Potter 7 Part 2 in a few hours. (Fuck yeah!)**

**I decided to take a little break from the Fanfiction standard of Garrus and Shepard being best buddies. For once, I just want to explore what the mood would be like if Garrus and Shepard loathed each other.**

**Also: Garrus will probably be the only one with several chapters dedicated to his recruitment. Several reasons, 1. It's a fucking awesome mission. 2. Garrus is one of the few crewmembers who has a drastically different dynamic with Shepard. 3. Both Miranda and Jack are on this mission, and this story **_**IS **_**about them.**


	19. The Battle of Kokomo Plaza

Changing Fate

Chapter Nineteen: The Battle of Komodo Plaza

I don't own Bioware

**AFTERLIFE, OMEGA**

**APRIL 1****ST****, 2203**

**TWENTY YEARS AFTER THE REAPER WAR**

Omega was a place of violence. This was a fact known to everyone, everywhere. Go to Omega, and you were likely to get stabbed, shot, beaten, etc. There was a saying in the Special Investigations Unit at Citadel Security: _'If a man says he's seen every way that someone can be killed, check if he's been to Omega.'_

In most civilized places in the galaxy, if ten people died a day from violent attacks, then the crime rate was considered to be spiralling up. On Omega, if ten people died in a half hour, someone would comment that there must be an unusually good sky ball match keeping the mercs and dealers occupied.

A consequence of this 'phenomenon', was that no one really paid attention to any of the fights and small wars that occurred around the station. Fifty vorcha could die in one of Captain Gavorn's raids on the lower districts, and nobody would even pay attention. The Blue Suns and Eclipse could get in an argument over a particularly valuable shipment of slaves and no one would bat an eyelid at the hundred plus bodies that were usually dumped out of the airlocks the next morning. Even Aria's conquest, and her brutal battle with the Patriarch at the centre of Afterlife, was referred to as 'the switch-up', an unusually bloodless event that only killed about thirty krogan still loyal to the former boss.

But there was one event that everyone would remember, and would speak about in hushed tones for years to come. Some would remember with admiration and respect, others with hatred, glee...and grudging respect. The Battle of Kokomo Plaza.

Everyone knew the story. The citizens would always remember Archangel. Those who had been present, and survived, spoke with fear of the Turian With No Name. Even the vorcha could be cowed, simply by the mention of Long Shot. A thousand freelancers dropped, one by one, with unfailing lethality. A hundred YMIR mechs blown to pieces. Eclipse Vanguards cowering in terror. Blue Suns troopers fleeing for their lives. Varren scurrying back into their tunnels. Garm the Invulnerable? Dropped with a single close range rifle shot, straight through his right eye. A squadron of gunships blown out of the sky.

At least, that was the way Jentha Montgomery told the story. She had the scars to prove it. Her right arm was synthetic, the original flesh and bone severed from her body by a razor sharp combat talon. Grenade fragments were embedded in her face and neck, and she walked with a permanent limp. A legend amongst the Blue Suns, even after her retirement. She was the woman that killed Archangel.

Eighteen years ago, she had been Commander Tarak's second in command. She had fought Archangel one on one, and had set the charges that destroyed the vigilante's hideout...and the turian bastard along with it. And every year, the Blue Suns would drink a toast to the death of Omega's Public Enemy Number One.

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**OMEGA, 2185**

**ARCHANGEL'S HIDEOUT**

**KOKOMO PLAZA**

Jacqueline Harper was rarely surprised by anything. Part of the reason...well...most of the reason for that was her almost inhuman ability to predict when people where going to screw her over. And _that_ ability came from her knowledge of human nature. Human nature? Make that nature, full stop. It was predictable that all species would share many of the same flaws, and that gave Jack her edge. Psychology was a hobby for her, but a useful one. If somebody felt they could get an advantage by fucking you over, then they would fuck you over. Power, money...love...people were predictable that way.

But what she found utterly flabbergasting was how two people could hate each other like a preacher hated sin...and still be astoundingly effective in combat.

The animosity between Shepard and Garrus wasn't quiet or awkward. They loathed each other with a rage that bordered on the homicidal. The psyche profiles on both of them suggested that only the stabilising influence of Lieutenant Alenko had prevented a 'friendly fire' incident. The anti-authoritarian tendencies of the turian had been an affront to Shepard's ego. Likewise, Shepard's almost bi-polar switches between Good Cop and Bad Cop had frustrated Vakarian, preventing even a reluctant friendship between them.

But as another set of Eclipse mercs dropped like flies under the combined fire from Shepard, Garrus and Zaeed, Jack saw something else, something the profiles hadn't predicted. Their fighting styles complimented each other. Shepard took down shields with disruptor rounds, Vakarian finished off the mercs with headshots. It wasn't elegant, but it was effective.

For her part, Jack was equally efficient. The effectiveness of the team on the upper floor meant she didn't need to exert her biotics. Her Predator was a good pistol, fairly accurate up to a hundred yards. The few Eclipse that got close were immediately gunned down either by herself or Subject Zero.

Really, the convict's drug habit _couldn't_ surprise Jack. It didn't even disgust her on a personal level. Jack didn't let anything get to her on a personal level. Her first mission as a field operative had taught her that letting things get personal led to mistakes. So she kept things at arms length. 'Friendships', were professional establishments to facilitate unit cohesion. If she praised a subordinate, it was because she calculated that a word of thanks would enhance productivity. Even sex was completely impersonal, something for brief gratification and stress relief.

So when she analysed her new discovery, she did from the perspective of the ship's executive officer. Would it affect the mission? Probably not, the convict was on the smart side of stupid. Subject Zero would have a stash back on the ship, enough to last for a while. As long as Jack made sure to keep her dosed with red sand, then she'd continue to be a 'valued' member of the team.

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Garrus frequently considered the possibility that Shepard was an evil spirit taking the form of a human. It would explain a lot of things. It would mean that there was a reason Garrus felt like punching that smug, pale face every time he saw it. It was also account for Shepard's insane good fortune in battle.

Of course, there was the other possibility that Shepard was just a barefaced, honourless bastard who was crazily prepared for every fight he got into.

"You hacked the YMIR mech before you came out?" Garrus watched as another merc fell to the guns of the monstrous machine. "Even for you, that's..."

"Genius?" Shepard fired another burst from his newly acquired Vindicator.

"I was going to say freakishly paranoid," Garrus winced as a barrage of rockets finally took down the YMIR. "How could you even predict that they would deploy it?"

"I listened in on some conversations, did some recon before I charged into a corner," Shepard glanced sideways at the turian with a flash of contempt. "Something you might want to consider, the next time you want to get yourself trapped like this."

"Noted, but you were the one still stupid enough to come and get trapped with me," Garrus ejected his thermal clip and reached for a fresh case. "What mission can be so important that you would want me along with you?"

"Trust me, if I'd known it was you, I'd have let the mercs have free rein," Antony's tone was completely amiable. "But since I'm here, and your marksmanship seems to have improved, I thought I'd invite you along with me. The Collectors are taking down human colonies, they've kidnapped thousands of people. I'm putting together a team to stop them."

"And working with Cerberus," Garrus saw the Eclipse chapter leader, Jaroth, scream with frustration as the last of the LOKI mechs collapsed in a heap. Drawing a pistol, Jaroth charged forward across the bridge. Garrus fired a shot into the salarian's reinforced shields. Shepard and Zaeed joined in. "I thought you hated them."

"I'll dance with the devil if I have to," Shepard finished off Jaroth with a three round burst. "We both want the same thing."

"Let me guess. You'll go after them once the mission is done and completely destroy them?"

"You think I'm an idiot?" Antony looked genuinely surprised. "It's Cerberus. Destroy one cell and the other's will vanish overnight. You think it hasn't been tried before? The Batarian Special Intervention Unit tried to destroy Cerberus operations in the Terminus. They lost over four hundred agents before the message got across. The Illusive Man rarely commits his forces to a conventional fight."

"I thought you were one of the best anti-Cerberus agents in the Alliance?"

"That means I know a lot more about Cerberus than most. You try directly hunting Cerberus? You're going up against somebody who has a plan within a plan, and a backup plan behind that, and all those plans leading to a trap."

"So you're plan?"

"Kill the Collectors, go home."

"Seems a bit too simple for you."

"Simpler than going off on some idealistic crusade."

Garrus could appreciate that. On one hand, Shepard despised Cerberus. On the other, going after them for no other reason than he hated them, made absolutely no sense. When you were fighting foes like the Collectors and Reapers, then Cerberus was the lesser of two evils.

"Kill the Collectors and go home?"

"That's the plan."

"Need a good sniper?"

"Yep, but since I don't know any, you'll have to do."

There was no humour in the turian's smile. "Count me in. But if I want to go hunt down someone, you better not leave me behind."

"I'll consider it."

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"Hey, Shepard!" Miranda yelled up to the top. "Please tell me there are supposed to be explosions coming from downstairs!"

"Well, they had to start using their brains eventually," Garrus frowned as he glanced back over the bridge. "I collapsed the passages around the lower levels. Blood Pack must be digging through them."

"I'll deal with them," Shepard stood from his firing position. "Zaeed, stay here. Keep him alive."

"Concern for my welfare?" Garrus appreciated the help. The old human was tougher than he looked. Certainly he was a dead shot with his old rifle.

"You're no use to me dead," Antony slotted a handful of thermal clips into his bandoliers. Rechecking his armour systems, he walked for the steps. He'd never fought vorcha before. It looked fun.

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Fighting vorcha wasn't fun, Jack appreciated this more than most. Watching a teammate get torn apart and eaten while you were still trying to get out of your handcuffs...it stuck with you.

Few people truly appreciated just how much field work Jack had done. She had killed, blackmailed, threatened and destroyed all over the galaxy...and all for the good of humanity. Not torture though. Even 'evil' had standards, and the needless inflicting of pain was a line Jack didn't cross. She was a master of passive, painless interrogation. She left more brutal measures to others.

Vorcha were different. They actively enjoyed tormenting their prisoners before they killed them. Fire was their favourite. Jack expected no mercy from them, so she showed none in return.

It was their regeneration that she found frustrating. Unless you hit them with incendiary rounds, and plenty of them, then they just kept getting up. Headshots were fine, as well as applied use of biotics, but you could compromise every single major and minor organ and they'd just smile and keep on coming.

"I really find this quite distasteful," Jack's target collapsed with blood pouring from his legs. She stomped her heel down on his skull, then shot the primitive little bastard again. Never hurt to make sure.

"I suppose you prefer a nice clean interrogation chamber?" Subject Zero challenged her.

Jack's lip curled. "Well, you have to admit, it's much more civilised. A nice selection of _drugs_, and your subject is fully compliant."

Miranda felt a hot flush of humiliation. Cheerleading bitch thought herself so superior because of what _Cerberus_ hooked her on. "Fuck you."

"I don't swing that way," Jack politely declined. "But if you play your cards right with Yeoman Chambers..."

A fresh stream of vorcha charging toward the shutter drew their attention away from each other. Briefly.

"I don't need you or anyone else getting in my face," Miranda hissed under her breath as Shepard lead the way towards the next shutter. "You did this to me."

"And you're the one still doing it to yourself," Jack had read some of the files from Teltin. Not all of them, just enough to have an opinion. It was a rogue facility, Cerberus couldn't be blamed for what went on. "Your attitude demonstrates a remarkable lack of maturity. I would have thought you had ample opportunities to grow up between then and now. You're living confirmation of several prominent theories about the mental state of career criminals."

"Gee, I wonder what traumatic event in my childhood could have fucked me up for life," Miranda pondered. "Was it that my daddy didn't love me? Or did I get kidnapped by a psychotic group of pro-human extremists that pumped me full of drugs and turned me into a killer?"

"I thought you were a thief?" Jack taunted.

"You ruined me, bitch!"

"Part of you? Maybe. You fucked up the rest yourself."

Miranda took another deep breath. She couldn't kill the shorter woman just yet. "I think you should stay out of my way once we get back to the Normandy."

"Suits me perfectly."

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Garrus knew it was too good to last. He had gotten reinforcements, and they were good. He had entertained the briefest spark of hope that he would survive. Survive to wreak vengeance on Sidonis. But now the boot was on the other foot. Garm had found another way up. With Shepard still dealing with the shutters, Garrus didn't have a chance.

Three krogan and half a dozen vorcha were right behind Garm as he charged up the stairs. The human, Zaeed, was beside him, rifle ready. Two against ten? It was a fool's hope.

A wave of futile desperation took over Garrus. Fuck it. Fuck it all. Fuck Garm. Fuck Shepard. Fuck Sidonis. For one brief, violent moment, Garrus Vakarian went insane. He charged a krogan.

Garm and Garrus met with a crash in the middle of the hall. The turian's talons tore gashes in Garm's hide. One of the krogan's eyes was ripped right out of its socket. With a pained roar, Garm stumbled back. Garrus didn't let up. Jamming his pistol under Garm's jaw, he pulled the trigger. It didn't kill the krogan warlord, but it distracted him, kept him off balance. In the background, Garrus heard the vorcha scream. They weren't his concern. He wanted Garm to scream. He wanted the krogan to beg for mercy.

Jack dived past the first of Garm's bodyguards. She heard him yelp as Subject Zero activated a lift field, displacing him from his position. The second and third krogan were likewise distracted by rifle fire coming from Shepard and Massani. Jack's target was Garm. The mission's objective was Archangel, and her immediate objective in the mission was to not let him kill himself in one on one combat with a krogan three times his weight.

Flicking a few strands of her hair out of the way, Jack sprinted at Garm. Her first strike was a micro warp, delivered to the weakly armoured joint, just behind the knee. The krogan went down, clutching at the wall to stabilise himself. Reaching over his hump, the Cerberus operative got a grip on the rough texture of the krogan's fringe and pulled as hard as she could. Garm's head jerked back, exposing his throat...

Turian combat talons were efficient by design, their shape accounting for the powerful forward swing of turian males. This strike had been the standard method of stunning and killing prey, back when the first primitive tribes had ranged the radioactive deserts of Palaven, basking in the rays of their planets many suns and enjoying the luxurious heat. A turian's fist could crack even a krogan's skull. As a consequence, the standards for turian knives were...demanding. They had to be hand forged, lest there be an accident or occasional impurity, as was normal with mass produced items. Dying in battle because your blade snapped in your hand was stupidity bordering on dishonour. Thus, turian blacksmiths had survived the march of technology, receiving millions of requests from all across the galaxy, every turian needing a blade hardy enough to withstand the regular impacts of a cross-strike, while maintaining an edge sharp enough to tear open a nathak's hide.

Seeing his opportunity, Garrus lunged forward, talon held high. His first strike didn't cut deep enough to be lethal. But was enough to open a thin line across Garm's freakishly tough flesh. Like most snipers, Garrus was trained to kill effectively at long range, that was the job description. But turians had perfected the art of knife fighting, so Garrus had taken the time to get acquainted with the techniques. Slice and slash always worked best on krogan.

His second strike was accurately planted right on site of his first. This time the blade went deeper, disabling Garm's vocal chords and severing his primary windpipe. The krogan flailed desperately, grunting with panic as he struggled to get free.

Snatching his discarded Mantis from the ground, Garrus struck Garm across the crest with the butt. Reversing his grip, Garrus dug the muzzle right into the krogan's empty eye socket. Garm suddenly became very still.

"I'd take my time, do this properly with a knife," Garrus allowed himself seven seconds to savour the moment. "But I think I'll save my efforts for a real krogan."

Garm let out one final howl of impotent rage and humiliation, tinged with fear, before Garrus pulled the trigger.

Jack delicately wiped a few flecks of krogan gore off her gloves. She was glad to see that her ability to read people hadn't really faded. Garm was a bully. Like all bullies, when deprived of power, friends, and weapons, he was a coward. Just like she predicted. For a moment, Jack felt a deep admiration for the turian in front of her. He had a swagger that rivalled Shepard and Garm, but like Shepard and unlike Garm, he had the skills to back up his arrogance. It struck her that she was possibly the only current member of the team whose desire to be the best was not born from pride, but from simple professionalism.

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"Y'know, I've made a lot of enemies in my time, but even I ain't managed to piss off every bloody merc group in the Terminus...well, at the same time anyway," Zaeed casually looted Garm's body, retrieving a few credit chits, a pouch of incendiary grenades and thermal clips, and a wicked looking shotgun. "Not as impressive as Shepard, he managed to piss off a race of immortal, sentient machines, but a goddamned good effort. You're a promising rookie 'Archangel'."

"Thanks?" Garrus slipped out his ammo block. He had worn it down to almost half. Still had a few good shots left in it.

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch," Shepard lifted a set of field goggles, gazing back across the bridge. "What next?"

"Tarak's got the toughest group, but it's nothing we haven't faced..." Garrus heard the telltale whirring just before the gunship appeared. His weary muscles shrieked in protest as he tackled Shepard into cover. "GUNSHIP!"

"Take cover!" Jack called unnecessarily. "Shepard? You alive?"

"Get off of me!" Shepard shoved the turian away. "Massani, heavy weapons!"

"BLUE SUNS!" A turian rappelled in through the window as the gunship began dropping troops. Miranda threw a knife straight through his faceplate before he could raise his shields, then blasted the next two back out the window with a follow up mnemonic. A burst of rifle fire hit Miranda's barrier. There were too many for her to handle solo.

"Bitch, need a little help!"

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Jentha had trained her assault platoon well after her original unit had been wiped out by Archangel. Advanced Close Quarters Battle techniques, fire support tactics, aggressive insertion manoeuvres. They were the best on Omega...and it still wasn't enough.

The Suns didn't recruit many biotics, not for what they cost to hire. Jentha realised, too late, that with a few asari vanguards she could have won. But the second her boots touched down, and she saw the tactical scenario for herself, she saw the immediate reality. Half her men were already dead, killed by two biotics waiting for them at close quarters. The rest were being picked off as they landed on the lower levels. Her two pronged assault had turned into a rout, a _massacre_, in seconds.

She tried to fight back. Bringing her Revenant up, she aimed it at the red haired bitch in the tight jumpsuit. She got off five shots before the weapon was yanked out of her hands. The other biotic was in close, a knife in her hands. Jentha grabbed her own knife and slashed forward. The short haired woman stepped in close, grabbed Jentha's wrist and struck at the elbow joint.

Jentha stared at the bloody stump of her right arm. The folded Titanium-A blade had cut through her armour and undersuit like warm butter. The mercenary went into shock about the same time that Miranda hit her in the chestplate with a biotic punch, shattering her ribcage and hurling her against the wall. Her head hit the wall, adding a concussion to the mix. Anyone else should have died immediately, but Jentha was just a little bit tougher than the average person. She always had been.

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Tarak didn't care much for humans, but that was nothing new for a batarian. He collectively despised their species, but he got on fine with the individuals. Jentha was special to him. In her he saw a successor, a worthy inheritor of the empire he had built on Omega. He had even considered propositioning her, if taking a human lover wasn't guaranteed to make him the laughing stock of every respectable batarian between Illium and Khar'Shan. So Tarak had settled for being her mentor, always wondering what that soft, pale skin would feel like, but satisfied just to teach her and guide her.

And now Archangel had taken that away from him. Blood pounded in Tarak's ears. Fear for his own life evaporated. Hatred encased every atom of his being. =ARCHANGEL! COME ON AND FACE ME! I'LL KILL YOU, JUST LIKE I KILLED YOUR PATHETIC TEAM!=

And Archangel heard him.

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"You aren't fit to lick their boots!" Garrus screamed as he swung out of cover, rifle aimed squarely at the gunship's cockpit. He never got a chance to fire.

Tarak took his shot, his main gun tearing through the turian's shields, followed up by a missile. If it had been a direct hit, Garrus would not have survived. But just before the guided projectile struck, Garrus twisted away, trying to dodge it.

Glancing off his armour's collar, the missile detonated. Shrapnel ripped into the right side of his face and neck, blasting a ragged hole right through his armour. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, blue blood oozing out of his wounds.

=YOU'RE NEXT!= Tarak was almost hysterical as he turned toward the rest of Archangel's collaborators. =DEATH TO ALL TRAITORS!=

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Antony B. Shepard was a man of many qualities, even if they _were_ mostly bad ones. Among his few good ones was his unfailing sense of loyalty. Loyalty to his uniform, loyalty to his friends, loyalty to his allies...even if he hated them.

So when he saw Garrus fall, when he saw the blood of the turian he hated almost as much as Councillor Valern, he felt angry for the briefest of moments, then became calm. Good soldiers didn't get angry. A leader acting under the influence of his emotions would certainly get his men killed. Very calmly, with hurried, but careful movements, he picked up Garrus' rifle, sighted on the cockpit of the gunship, and put a bullet right between Tarak's eyes.

The dead batarian slumped forward over the control column. The gunship went into an uncontrollable spin, arching up and over the safehouse...then crashing through the roof. It finally came to a stop in a mangled pile of wreckage.

"Cheap mercenary bullshit," Shepard grunted as he ejected the thermal clip. "Harper, help me get Garrus up. Massani, is that one over there still alive?"

Zaeed pressed two fingers against the side of Jentha's neck. "Weak pulse, but she's still breathing. Tough bitch."

"Patch up her arm and bring her along, we're getting out of here." Shepard hooked his arms underneath Garrus' elbows and began dragging him toward the corridor.

"Can't we just call in the Kodiak?" Jack glanced distastefully at the turian's bloody boots.

"No time, once that gunship's fuel goes up, it'll set off the missile supply and wipe out this whole block," Shepard led the way down the stairs and out the front door. "But if four freelancers bring their badly wounded turian companion and an injured Blue Suns lieutenant..."

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"Get those aircars started up!" Miranda charged down the steps toward the assembly area. Only a few Blue Suns were left, some low ranking foot soldiers assigned to guard the rear entrance. They looked terrified.

"Did you kill Archangel?" Corporal Salki demanded, his eyes bulging as he gripped his pistol.

"Yeah!" Miranda nodded. "But we got wounded. Archangel shot my buddy...Tirus. And Lieutenant Jentha's fucked up in a bad way."

Shepard and Jack heaved Garrus/Tirus toward the aircars. Zaeed carried Jentha directly to the Blue Suns.

"Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," the old mercenary gestured wildly. "She jumped out of the gunship, fought Archangel one on one. He killed Tarak, Jaroth, Cathka and Garm, but she just cut him to ribbons."

"We'll take care of her," Salki tried to regain a little of his dignity. "You go get your turian friend some help. We'll authorise your payment, probably toss in a little extra."

"Well, thanks a lot for that mate," Zaeed had to fight to keep his grin concealed. "You take care."

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The explosion rocked the aircar briefly, the missiles and fuel combining together to add to the destruction.

"Well, that was pretty goddamned ninja," Zaeed relaxed into his seat. "Won't be much of that place left standing. Understandable that they won't find Archangel's body."

"That's what I'm counting on," Antony scanned the turian and frowned. "We need to get him back to the Normandy. Chakwas should be able to take care of him."

"He'll be fine, Commander," Jack dialled in the co-ordinates to the auto-pilot. "You know, you did much more than save that lieutenant's life. She'll be famous for killing Archangel. Might even take over Tarak's job."

"Yeah, well...she was much more polite than him." Antony rubbed his sore shoulder.

"A strange reason for mercy," Jack looked over at Miranda. "You fought well today, Lawson."

Miranda shrugged. "I owed the Blue Suns an asskicking anyway. Just don't put me in firefights like that. They're not my style."

"You've got no style," Jack's brief moment of praise ended just as quickly as it started. "You'll do what you paid to do. Just like we agreed."

Miranda leaned forward. "There is no 'we', cheerleader. There's just Cerberus and Cerberus credits. Remember that."

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**A/N: For some strange reason, I'm more motivated to write now that semester has started than I was during break.**

**A review brought to my attention that I've been focusing too much on developing Miranda, and ignoring Jack. Fear not, I have an equally good character arc in mind for Jack.**

**Next chapter, we pick up the greatest NPC of Mass Effect 2. No two ways about it, he was quite possibly the most endearing and universally beloved character in all of Bioware's video game history. Even more than Wrex.**


	20. No Place I Can Be

Changing Fate

Chapter Twenty: No Place I Can Be

I don't own Bioware

**SSV NORMANDY**

**MESS HALL**

**2185**

After Elysium, a shrink had recommended to Shepard that he get in touch with his feelings. Not only had Antony gotten in touch with his feelings, he had taken them out to party and never taken them home.

_There's no point in shutting yourself off_, he had argued with Alenko. _Just make sure you get to feel more good emotions than bad ones._

And boy, he had practiced what he preached. Shepard had learned to feel good about a lot of things. When he was dumped in the swamps of Nordacrux and forced to live off bugs for a week, he felt good because he no longer had to explain to that pretty nurse on the _Everest_ that he really wasn't interested in another date. When he got shanked in the leg by an angry krogan in the C-Sec drunk tank, he felt good because the cops dropped all charges for fear of getting the pants sued off them by an angry Alliance officer.

But right now? Shepard felt guilty. There was no way to feel good about guilt. Sitting at the main table in the mess hall, Antony stared at the mission report in his fingers. He was trying to piece together where he went wrong. Maybe he shouldn't have stopped at killing the Blue Suns tech repairing the gunship. He should have left a bomb with it. A nice, big bomb to stop it from getting off the ground. He should have planned better. He hadn't. And now Garrus was paying the price.

Shepard wasn't guilty because Garrus was hurt. The thought of the over-confident turian getting humbled actually brought a sadistic smile to his face. What bothered him was the thought of someone dying. Dying because of a mistake he made. If Garrus was going to die, Antony infinitely preferred it to be because of something Garrus did, not because of what Shepard didn't do.

The sickbay doors opened with a snap and a hiss. Jack walked out, pulling a pair of surgical gloves off her fingers. Shepard raised his head slightly. Jack walked right past him.

"Hey?" Standing from the table, Antony reached out to her. "How is he?"

Jack stared back at him. "He had half his face shot off Shepard. Chakwas is holding him on the edge. My prognosis? He won't last the night. Dr. Chakwas is more hopeful. She seems to think she can compensate for the damage with cybernetics."

"Can she?"

"To use an uncouth phrase, not a fucking chance," Jack turned back towards her office. "Dr. Chakwas just doesn't have enough experience on interspecies medicine to pull it off."

Shepard found his eyes drifting down the back of the white jumpsuit...

Zaeed smacked him across the back of the head. The sound echoed across the mess hall. Jack smirked to herself as she entered her office.

"Ow!" Shepard rubbed the sudden bruise. "What was that for?"

"Keep you eyes off the boss's girl's arse, mate," Zaeed advised him sagely. "Why don't you think about getting some help for your friend?"

"He's not my friend," Antony felt thirsty. Water would do, and there was a tap in the galley. "And you heard the bitch. We don't have any doctor capable of helping him."

"Krogan shit, you're a thick bloke Shepard, make no mistake." Zaeed snorted. "Look, Jackie Girl said we need someone used to treating more than humans, right?"

"More or less," Antony grabbed a glass and filled it up with ice cubes and water. Never pass a drink of fresh water, that was something the Gunnery Chief at basic had drummed into their heads. Even when you weren't thirsty, drink, because you didn't know when your next source of hydration would be coming to you.

"So? What are we waiting for? There's a doc just like that on Omega, remember? Mordin Solus?"

Shepard spat out a mouthful of water. "That's..."

"Fucking genius?" Zaeed suggested.

"Mildly useful," Antony allowed. "Grab the super biotic chick and meet me in the armoury."

"Right," Zaeed swivelled toward the elevator, paused, and swivelled back. "Where _is_ the super biotic lass?"

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Miranda liked her new home below the engineering deck. It was dark and quiet, her best friends. If it was dark, she knew no one could see her, but she could see them. If it was quiet, it meant no one could creep up on her without her notice. A perfect hiding spot.

That wasn't to say she wasn't going to dress it up a little bit first. Like most smart upper-class criminals, Miranda kept a lockbox on every major population and trade hub in the galaxy, just in case. On Omega? She had several fine bottles of Bellepheron vodka, four different passports, fifty thousand credits in loose change, and six pieces of artwork (each one a different kind of priceless)

The dark actually worked better for the quarian work, the two captures of Rannoch's landscape. The eyes of a quarian saw everything in different colours and spectrums when compared to a human. For Miranda to really appreciate what she had stolen, the ambient light had to be below thirty percent.

She had 'requisitioned' a heating unit from the crew deck to deal with the overly cool air. In the two hours since she had retrieved her property, Miranda had turned the 'Pit' into her version of home.

Reclining onto the Cerberus issue cot (and some genuine Earth-made pillows), Miranda began partaking in her second major vice. Expensive Swiss chocolates. At least, she hoped they were Swiss. Black market dealers on Omega weren't ones to be trusted as to the quality of their merchandise. At the end of the day, as long as it had cocoa, milk and sugar in it, with a hint of premium schnapps mixed in, it went down well with 'The Ghost'.

"So," she chewed thoughtfully. "Hock's on Bekenstein?"

"And getting ready for a party with his friends and business partners," Kasumi confirmed. She had set up her own haven on the Crew Deck, but she could see the appeal in Miranda's quarters. The quiet was good. "He'll have the greybox in his vault, secure and protected. Most of the security will be external. Control freak like Hock won't permit any guards in the vault, but they'll be thick as flies outside it."

"Party gives us enough cover to breach the security," Miranda toyed with one of her knives. "We'll have to shop around on the Citadel for what we need. Lowell Fashions has a particularly appealing range of cocktail dresses available."

"Ooh," Kasumi took a look at the catalogue. "You'd look great in the blue one."

"You sure?" The younger thief eyed it distastefully. "Not much room to hide a gun."

Kasumi snapped her fingers. "Guns. Armour. We'll need to bring a present with us. Something big enough to hide our heavy equipment. Like on Pankott?"

"The Pankott trick should work..."

"Oi, Lawson," Zaeed's boots clunked on the deck. "Shepard wants you. We're taking another gander onto Omega, grab a doc."

"Sounds interesting," Kasumi reached for one of Miranda's pistols. "Mind if I tag along?"

Zaeed spared her a glance. "Sure sweet cheeks. Just don't slow us down."

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**OMEGA PLAGUE ZONE **

**THIRTY MINUTES LATER**

"Son of a bitch!" Zaeed was panting with exhaustion. "How does she move so fast?"

Shepard grinned humourlessly. "Thieves. Gotta run away from a heist, right?"

"Good point," Zaeed reloaded his rifle. "Got my pocket picket by some dumb kid on Illium once. Poor brat didn't realise I had a pressure grenade in there. Blew his arm clean off."

"One hell of an anti-burglary device," Shepard jogged down the stairs. Kasumi and Miranda were waiting by the door to the clinic.

"What took you so long?" Miranda was smiling again. The buzz from her last hit of red sand was lasting longer than she had expected. That was a good sign. When the human body frequently indulged in narcotics, an eventual resistance was built up to the pleasurable effects. To regain their high, addicts would use larger doses...and kill themselves as surely as if they put a Carnifex to their heads and jammed down the trigger.

"Had to mop up back there," Shepard walked past the mechs guarding the entrance. "Nice tac cloaks. You got any spares?"

"A cloak's only half the battle," Kasumi explained. "You need to be able to move fast and quiet. Otherwise..."

"They'll hear you and kill you," Miranda finished. "And those big boots of yours Shepard? Not very subtle."

"Subtlety is overrated. Faint hearts never won fair ladies."

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**SSV AIN JALUT**

**EN ROUTE TO HORIZON**

**COMMS ROOM**

"I love you," Kaidan told the hologram of his fiancé. "You know that, right?"

Libby nodded, her smile almost masking the concern in her eyes. "Do you know when you'll be back?"

"That's classified," Kaidan scratched the back of his head. "I can't even tell you where I'm heading. I'll just be away for a while. Don't wait up."

"I understand," Libby lifted a hand to the ring dangling on a chain around her neck. "Go get them, cowboy. And be careful."

"I'm always careful," Kaidan nodded to the comms officer. The hologram disappeared...and Kaidan was once more reminded just how big and empty space was. "Always..."

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**THE OBSERVATORY**

**LOCATION UNKNOWN**

The Illusive Man was not a sadist, despite what many believed. He didn't enjoy causing pain or suffering. For him, every life lost or destroyed was a tragedy. His priority was the advancement of humanity at any cost, but he did not use this goal as a blanket excuse for any action that might occur to him.

His was a power to be used sparingly, applied force at the place of least resistance to achieve the greatest result. He did not consider himself an ethical man, neither was he a particularly moral one. But he _was_ reasonable, and as fair as he could be whenever the situation permitted it.

So when considering the correct course of action to take in furthering his goal of eliminating the Collectors, the Illusive Man genuinely did try to devise a plan that did not place any civilians in danger. And when he had exhausted all possible options, he turned the problem over to EVA, the Observatory's Artificial Intelligence. And after that, when even EVA's infinite logic had confirmed only one truly viable course of action...well, enough of Jack Harper's conscience still existed to thoroughly spoil his lunch.

"EVA?" The Illusive Man sipped at his Kentucky bourbon. "I need you."

=Yes sir?= EVA's avatar appeared in front of him. He had allowed her to choose her own representation. Out of billions of rather flattering options, EVA had constructed a brunette woman in a grey business suit, always carrying a notepad, and wearing a set of thick rimmed glasses. She had been constructed to be his personal assistant, but sometimes he thought she took her role a little too literally.

"When does Mr. Alenko arrive on Horizon?"

EVA's hologram frowned and peered through its glasses as 'she' stared down at her notepad. =The _Ain Jalut_ will briefly land at the main settlement in six hours, offload her cargo, then return to the Citadel=

"And when will the _Ain Jalut _be out of emergency broadcast range of the auxiliary transmitters?" A headache was starting to form behind his cybernetic eyes. _This was for the good of mankind_.

=Sir, if my brain existed, it would be the size of a planet= EVA pushed her glasses further up her nose. =Why don't we skip your delaying tactics and answer your real question? You will be able to launch your plan in approximately nine hours. By that time, no Alliance ships will be anywhere near the colony. Commander Alenko and his platoon will be completely isolated, and trusting their weapons to protect them from the Collectors=

"Once we drop the Commander's location into the water, it won't take the Collector's long to sniff it out and mobilise a raid," The Illusive Man stood to stretch his legs. "I estimate that Horizon will be hit in less than six days."

=I concur= EVA followed him, her holo-projectors allowing her free reign around the room. =From his current location, it will take Command Shepard at least a day to reach Horizon. Far too late for what we have planned. If I may be so bold as to offer a suggestion, why not find Shepard a reason to be closer to Horizon for the next week? From the Citadel it is only a four hour flight=

"I'll consider it," The Illusive Man gazed at the blue star filling the backdrop of his personal headquarters. "Pick a good place to drop those rumours, preferably somewhere the Shadow Broker will easily find them."

=Understood sir= EVA hesitated. =Your logic is undeniable, sir. All the data points to this as the only way to gain a legitimate advantage over the Collectors. EDI _must_ have an opportunity to data mine their computers if we are to win this war=

"I am aware of my logic, EVA," The Illusive Man replied sharply. "It _is_ the only option. It just seems a little...heartless."

=The right thing to do is not always the easiest= EVA tried to sound sympathetic. =You were the one who showed me that=

"And sometimes I think I taught you a little too well." Lighting up a cigarette, the Illusive Man settled back into his chair. "Sometimes it is more vital to be humane than it is to be logical."

=But not this time?=

"Unfortunately not."

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Miranda had seen the inside of many a hospital. She knew what to expect in a place like Omega. Outside the nice, shiny, clean world of Citadel space, you found the Terminus. And you found the same thing in every clinic in the Terminus. Death, poverty, overtired medics and understocked shelves of meds. And junkies. Plenty of junkies.

This one was different. Instead of strung out addicts nursing their infections, there were busy human orderlies helping aliens to seats, administering medication and even doling out rations. It smelled crisp, anti-sceptic, clean...and safe. Two armed guards with assault rifles kept them pointing in the general direction of Shepard and Massani.

"I need to find Dr. Solus," Shepard kept his hands away from his weapons. "It's very important."

"Why?" One of the guards stepped right up to Shepard and shoved the barrel of his rifle up against Shepard's head. "So you can threaten him for money? We're wise to you mercs."

Shepard regarded the weapon with interest. "Get that out of my face."

"It's not in your face, it's in my hands."

"Get what's in your hands out of my face," Shepard eyed a nonexistent chronometer on his wrist. "And please do it within five seconds."

"Listen bud, I don't know what you..."

"Time's up."

In that instant, Miranda found out just how fast Antony Shepard was. And that...was pretty damn fast. In the time it took the whole room to blink, Antony pushed the barrel up and jerked it away from the over aggressive kid. A split-second later, the positions had been reversed. Shepard had the guard's rifle pressed against its previous owner's chest.

"Now," Antony continued. "I need to talk to Dr. Solus. I have no intention of harming or extorting him. Where is he?"

"Down the hallway," the kid stuttered. "He's with a patient."

Antony immediately removed the weapon, then frowned as he examined it. "This is an M-4 Banshee...kind of outmoded, don't you think?"

"I make it work," the kid's pride had been deflated spectacularly. "Modded it myself."

"That's good work," Shepard returned the rifle. "And if anyone who isn't Commander Shepard ever walks through here looking like they mean trouble, I want you to do exactly what you just did."

"Commander who?"

Kasumi giggled violently at the momentary crestfallen look on Shepard's face. Miranda didn't feel the need. She was simply reminded of the spectacular level of ignorance this far out in the Terminus. If they hadn't heard of Shepard, then that meant there was hardly any extranet access. And if there wasn't extranet access, then families with children wouldn't be able to access educational resources.

_It's not your problem,_ her subconscious gave her a nudge. _None of them ever did you any favours. If they don't have the guts to get on top and stay on top, then they deserve what they get_. It was a selfish point of view, and she willingly admitted that. But the galaxy had never once been kind to her in her life. Just one shitty deal after another, liberally sprinkled with broken dreams. She didn't need to feel bad about a few saps on a mudpile like Omega.

"Hell of an idea," Zaeed pronounced as he eyed the rest of the clinic with a critical glance. "Peace, with superior firepower. Doesn't work very often. Most docs, religious leaders and other fine hearted idiots are too soft to protect their people. This Solus bloke must be somethin' special to make it all run."

"You ever done any of it?" Shepard began walking down the hallway, unwilling to admit the blow his pride had just taken.

"Got paid to protect a school for orphans out in the Skyllian Verge," Zaeed fondly traced a scar across the back of his hand. "Sister Monica ran it. Boy, that nun was a tough one. She and I fought off the local merc gang more times than I could count."

"Were you the only one to get out of that alive?" Shepard wasn't sure he wanted to know the end.

"As a matter of fact, we killed so many mercs, they offered to work the protection detail for half of what I was getting. I was homesick for some good payin' jobs on Elysium, so I let 'em have it. The nun's promised they'd pray for me every day. Reckon those prayers have saved my hide more'n a few times."

"You're some religious pussy?" Miranda found herself sneering.

"Fuck no, the Good Lord and I haven't been on speaking terms for years," Zaeed laughed. "No, I ain't a prayin' man. But I seen too much of this life not to believe, deep down...I just know."

"What about you, Shep?" Kasumi piped up. "You believe in anything?"

Antony stared right through her. "You know the saying, 'There are no atheists in foxholes'?"

"Yeah."

"I've been in a shitload of foxholes."

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_Was called gifted by the human helpers. Foolish assessment. All salarians 'gifted' by the standards of other species. Called gifted by dalatress. Good assessment. By standards of salarians was exceptionally talented, genius even. Knew that from six months old. Selected by clan dalatress to attend Sur'Kesh Institute at only two years of age. Great honour. Most candidates required more years of preparation._

_Was sad to say farewell to Mannovai, and yet...excited. New opportunities. Grand opportunities. Didn't realise at the time...couldn't have realised. Didn't know what the cost of intelligence was. Responsibility. Terrible responsibility. Intelligent enough for responsibility? Without question. Wise enough? Didn't know then...don't know now. Doesn't matter. Not issue at hand, can wait till later._

"...military scientists perhaps? Seeking out plague to use as bio-weapon? No, not enough equipment..."

"For the love of everything holy, take a breath." The commander of the team strode forward, slamming his hand onto Mordin's table. "I'm Commander Shepard, and I need to recruit you for a critical mission."

"Mission? What mission? No, can't leave, have work here, too important." Mordin turned away. _Shepard? Dead SPECTRE? Fascinating. Potentially useful?_ "Must cure plague. Already have cure, need to distribute. Maybe we could help each other?"

Shepard turned back to Zaeed. "You ever wish that some people were altruistic? Willing to help forestall galactic extinction without considering themselves?"

"S'pose there's someone out there like that," Zaeed shrugged. "I ain't one of them."

"Life is a negotiation," Mordin smiled faintly. "We all bargain to get we want. We all manipulate each other. Even altruism has rewards...spiritual wellbeing, quiet conscience. Request is small. Vorcha hold all territory between here and environmental controls. Vicious fighters. Poorly armed. Should prove no problem for skilled opponents."

"You seem to be taking an awful lot for granted," Shepard stepped back. "I have a crewman badly injured. A turian. He needs your help."

"Then suggest you hurry. Once done, will make haste to your vessel to render aid." Mordin sniffed the air suddenly. "Wait..."

A set of tired thumps announced the arrival of a new problem. The ceiling fans simply stopped rotating.

"Hmm, vorcha shut done environmental controls, intend to kill everyone." Mordin saw the humour in the situation. A knowing grin decorated his face as he faced the human. "Incentives doubled. If fans not restored in thirty minutes, entire sector will run out of oxygen."

Antony gave a sarcastic tilt of his helmet. "Gee, thanks doc. Suppose you wouldn't mind coming along to help us out?"

Mordin gave an apologetic shake of his head. "Quite honestly? Killed so many vorcha in past week, trigger finger becoming stiff. Prefer killing mercs. Mercs have manners, die silently, vorcha insist on making a fuss about it."

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**NORMANDY SR-2**

**EXECUTIVE OFFICER'S OFFICE**

**THERAPY SESSION 1 (OPERATIVE JACQUELINE HARPER)**

Yeoman Chambers wasn't accustomed to being summoned by Operative Harper for anything that didn't involve coffee, report collection or the occasional massage. Unlike Operative Taylor, who needed her to compile psychological profiles on his targets, Operative Harper did all her fieldwork and profiling by herself. She was smart, smarter than Kelly. She could analyse and understand people as well as any psychologist. But even the best psychologist couldn't diagnose herself.

So when it came time for Operative Harper's yearly psychological evaluation and therapy sessions, she had to make a selection from half a dozen analysts. Chambers was the most competent, and the most discrete.

"Well," Kelly cleared her throat. She stared at the frosty eyes of her superior. "This would be easier if you would take a seat on the couch. You know? Get you relaxed?"

"The purpose of this activity is not relaxation," Jack felt the need to clarify. "This is you recertifying my mental stability, and me not leaving you on Omega. Are we clear?"

"Yes," Kelly swallowed. "But, for me to do that, regulations state that you need to undergo one hour of analysis, every day for a week. Nothing I can do about that."

"Fine," Jack stepped away from her desk and took her place on a recliner facing out of the window. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Maybe your anger issues?"

The silence was deafening.

"Okay...too much to start off with. How about we start small? What do you do to relax?"

"Muay Thai and Tev Shira."

"Tev Shira?"

"Asari biotic martial arts."

Kelly massaged her temples. "This is going to be a long hour."


	21. The Smart and the Dead

Changing Fate

Chapter Twenty One: The Smart and the Dead

I don't own BioWare

**DUNSINANE CITY**

**BEKENSTEIN**

**2185**

The skinny salarian swung his pistol up, keeping it trained on the entrance to the alley. He struggled to get his breathing back under control, to stay silent enough that his pursuer wouldn't hear him.

"Y'know Ish..."

The information broker swung around violently as a familiar voice spoke into his ear. A fist met him mid-turn. Teeth dropped out of his mouth as he fell back against the wall.

"...I really wouldn't recommend a guy like you using a gun," Jacob Taylor finished his sentence as he stood over Ish. "Any idiot can use a gun. Guns make you stupid."

"Jacob...please..." Ish was silenced by the strip of duct tape that Jacob slapped across his mouth.

"I prefer duct tape to guns," Jacob explained. "Duct tape makes you smart. It also gives us a chance to talk, one on one, nice and personal."

Grabbing Ish by the collar of his suit (the material now reeking of salarian sweat and fear), Jacob propped him up against the wall. Grabbing the salarian's jaw, Jacob forced the alien to look him in the eye.

"Now, Ish, do I look like a bitch?"

Ish shook his head furiously. Jacob cocked an eyebrow with an affected curiosity. "Then why..." he drove his kneecap up into Ish's stomach. "Did you try to fuck me over like one? Wasn't I paying you enough, Ish? Did you think Hock could make you a better offer?"

Ish tried to shake his head again. Jacob responded with sharp jab to the salarian's throat. Ish fell to his knees, gasping for air. He looked up at Jacob, trying to plead for mercy with nothing but his eyes.

"Don't be a baby," Jacob eyed him with contempt. "I only bruised your air pipe. It's not fatal."

Ish watched with mounting horror as Jacob drew a very large pistol from his jacket and deliberately screwed a silencer onto the muzzle. The dark skinned Cerberus assassin spoke again. "But this pistol, Ish? It's very fatal. You shouldn't have tried to warn Hock."

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Miranda was used to taking advantage of people whose arrogance outweighed their intelligence. All who tried to match their wits and skills against hers had achieved either bankruptcy or early graves. It was something entirely new to be working with someone who was almost as smart as they thought they were. Almost.

Shepard was an educated man, that much was evident. Someone who thought almost as much he acted. He demonstrated a savvy in his actions that did not match up with the way he spoke. When Miranda had been posing as a news photographer on Arcturus, attempting to steal Alliance military secrets for a highly paying turian Spectre, she had heard the way the Marines in the bars lifted toasts to his name. Shepard was a member of the N7 killer elite, famed for shooting first and not giving a fuck about the consequences.

So it surprised her that when confronted by a group of screaming vorcha, Shepard listened politely instead of shooting the filthy vermin's head off.

"Collectors want plague! You all die! Then Collectors make us strong! So we break machines!" The gaping maw of the vorcha's mouth, filled with jagged teeth, reminded her of the machines at Pragia...danger, pain, screaming madness. She gave herself a mental slap, this was not the time or place to remember that place.

"Well, maybe we can come to some understanding?" Antony asked hopefully. "You like breaking machines? It just so happens that I'm going up against thousands of machines, hundreds of thousands. So, if you join me, you can break as many machines as you like."

The vorcha were suddenly very quiet. Finally, the one carrying a flamethrower spoke. "Is the human being serious?"

"Not sure." The leader scratched his head. "He doesn't seem smart."

"Should we kill him?"

Before they could finish that particular conversation, Miranda decided it was time to speed things up. Was she getting paid to fight? More than enough. Enough to stand around and listen to her boss attempt to recruit some filthy, rat-like guns for hire? Not nearly enough.

Reaching out, she suspended the pyro trooper in a pull field. As soon as the fuel tank on the back rotated her way, she released an incendiary burst from her omni tool. The resulting explosion threw the other three vorcha off their feet.

"WAIT!" Shepard yelled, trying to halt Miranda's charge. "WATCH OUT FOR THE..."

Something struck Miranda between the shoulders, a set of explosions went off around her. Her biotics faltered and failed, and then everything went dark.

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**NORMANDY SR-2**

**EXECUTIVE OFFICER'S QUARTERS**

"...so you don't want to try that with a krogan," Jack explained. "But if you work the blade in right under the fringe, they'll tell you anything you want to know. You have to work to get them to just shut up."

"Great," Kelly looked slightly ill. "And...how does that relate to what we were talking about?"

"I'm just saying that humans don't have a point like that," the Operative explained with exaggerated kindness. "We don't have a pressure point that makes us spew our guts. We crack under torture, but that's a long and arduous process."

"Again...I have no idea what you're getting at."

Jack leaned back in her chair. "I'm saying that you're not going to get anything out of me, Yeoman. I am emotionally, physically and mentally stable. I don't need a shrink. You'd be better off taking care of Mess Sergeant Gardner's repressed grief issues."

"Ma'am, this session is more important than you think," Kelly sighed with exasperation. "You have trust issues, problems with anger and impulse control, and an emotional disconnect that could prove...

The XO held up a hand. "That will be all Yeoman."

Kelly knew that she should stop. Knew that she should get up, turn around and walk away. She wasn't the dominant female on the ship. That position belonged to the XO. Kelly knew behavioural patterns like she knew the gritty childhood details about most of the ship's crew. A woman like Jacqueline Harper didn't accept help...because she was already convinced that she didn't need it. She literally didn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thought...unless it was a very good tactical suggestion.

But sometimes, when Kelly Chambers got pushed around enough, she pushed right back. "Ma'am! This is something that we **will** talk about, or as the Normandy's mental health expert, I will go straight to the Chief Medical Officer and advise her to relieve you of duty."

"You are looking for issues that do not exist." Operative Harper replied, her voice growing ice cold. "You can trace my behaviour back to a philosophy I have. If you let someone get close, they just need a shorter knife. In my line of work, a healthy sense of paranoia is..."

"There is nothing healthy about paranoia," Kelly planted her hands on the desk. "I think I know what's wrong. I read about the Arabis Incident. What Operative Tam did..."

"Don't!" Jack's tone was one decibel above a growl. "Don't mention that name in my presence again. Now get out!"

This time, Kelly obeyed.

Jack bent her head slightly, her fingers balled into fists and her blood pumping. Just the mention of his name was enough to make her like this. That damned name. Matthew Tam. Operative Matthew Tam.

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_**TURIAN HIERARCHY OUTPOST**_

_**CODENAME 'ARABIS'**_

_**2178**_

"_So Jackie..." Tam swung left, his pistol trained on the empty hallway. "What do you need to remember when dealing with turians?"_

_In the vents above him, Operative Jacqueline Harper, or 'Jackie' as she preferred to be called, was busy removing an access panel. She frowned for a few seconds, concentrating on her recent training session with the older operative. "They work on routine. Rigid schedule. Learn the schedule and you've already won."_

"_Correct, maybe there's hope for you yet," Tam checked his motion trackers. Nothing. "Are you in the system?"_

"_Almost..." Jack began soldering through the external security nodule. "About three more minutes."_

"_I'll go plant the charges on the reactor. Meet me at the main computer core in ten minutes, don't be late."_

"_No problem, I'm there in seven."_

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Jack snapped back into reality as she heard the commotion outside. Storming through the doors, she was greeted by the stench of human blood. Zaeed and Shepard were carrying a field stretcher, burdened down by the bleeding form of Lawson. Goto and a salarian were on either side of the stretcher, seemingly administering first aid.

"Shepard...what the hell?"

"Rocket launchers on the ledges," Antony rasped. "Lawson never saw them. Shrapnel wounds, concussion, minor burns. If her barrier had been down..."

"Shepard. Patient falling into shock," the salarian stuck a syringe of medi-gel into the woman's shoulder. "Must operate immediately. Am skilled trauma surgeon. Need assistant, preferably doctor. Nurse would also help."

"Dr. Chakwas has expertise in battlefield injuries," Shepard passed his end of the stretcher to Rolston. "Operative Harper?"

"I'll handle the rest," Jack was already removing her suit's gloves as she followed the stretcher into the med-bay. "Dr. Solus I presume?"

"Presume correct," the salarian briskly inserted his hands into the sterilization field. His head darted around, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the harsh, sterile light. "Excellent facility. Modern equipment. Advanced technology. Should have no trouble."

Chakwas was running triage. "Dr. Solus, Miss Lawson's concussion is dangerous, but not fatal. Your attention is needed on Mr. Vakarian."

"Understood. Miss Harper, please assist Miss Lawson," Mordin whipped around, pulling on three fingered gloves and retrieving a sonic scalpel from the tray with the easy familiarity of a practiced physician. "Recommend dermal regenerator for any brain tissue damage, quick extraction for shrapnel, medi-gel for burns."

"She's a very strong biotic, a dermal regenerator will just damage her implants," Jack grabbed a syringe. "Fifty cc's of carthoxalin will deal with the concussion."

"Carthoxalin? Good choice, good choice," Mordin didn't even flinch as he pulled back the bandages covering Garrus' face. "Ah, extensive damage to right mandible. Respiratory system compromised. Will need to supplant with cybernetics. Need engineer."

Chakwas twisted towards EDI's holoprojector. "EDI, I want Engineer Daniels up here STAT!"

Jack flicked the capsule several times to clear out the air bubbles. Peeling back the collar of the convict's suit, she aligned the needle with the main artery...until a hand grabbed her wrist and held it dead in place, exerting almost bone-crushing force on the joint.

Lawson stared up at her, eyes filled with an almost childlike terror. "Don't."

"Let go of me," Jack snapped irritably. She didn't have time for this.

"Please," Miranda was almost begging. Pain and confusion were the only two emotions in her voice. "No more needles. Please."

"It's medication for your concussion." The XO was unsure of why she was even trying to explain. "I'm trying to help you."

The convict stared up at her, suspicion replacing fear. "You promise?"

Jack hesitated. _Helping you now...so that you can be useful to me later_. "I promise."

The injured woman slowly nodded her assent. Jack injected the solution. "You're going to sleep for a while. Understand?"

"Understood," Miranda closed her eyes. "You should understand that my fee just went up."

Jack smiled in faint amusement. "We'll work out terms later."

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**BRIEFING ROOM**

**FOUR HOURS LATER**

"Well, I'd 'ave never believed it if I hadn't seen it," Zaeed ran the edge of a long knife over a pocket flint. "That girl Daniels just took the specs Mordin gave her and just made it. What's the girl doing as a greaseneck?"

"Not a clue," Shepard tested the edge of the table. "I just want to know if they work. 'Cause if Garrus dies, then..."

The opening of the door silenced him. Zaeed froze, staring at the semi-monstrous figure standing in the doorway. Bandages soaked in sapphire blood, with a large metal plate screwed onto the right side of his face, Garrus Vakarian looked like a monster from a child's nightmare. He also looked like he was in pain.

"Well..." Garrus forced the words out with a slur, the cybernetic side of his face affecting his pronunciation. "No one gave me a mirror. How does it look?"

"Fuck ugly." Zaeed responded immediately.

"Fuck you. Shepard?"

"Really fucking ugly." Shepard confirmed. "But in your case, I'd say it's a compliment."

"Fuck you too." Garrus limped forward. "So...I heard snippets of conversation. You're out for the Collectors? Working for Cerberus too? That's nice. Real classy."

"I've never made the claim to class."

"No, but I thought loyalty to the Alliance meant something to you." Garrus' left mandible parted in a turian expression of confusion. The right stayed where it was. It gave him a lopsided look. "It was one of your very few redeeming qualities. What does Anderson think about it? Or Alenko? They were your friends."

"Anderson gave his approval. I don't know about Alenko, I haven't seen him since I...got back."

"Got back? You've been somewhere?"

"Yeah...dead." Shepard admitted sheepishly. "Dead. I was absent from this mortal coil for about two years."

"I see," Garrus nodded.

Antony paused. "Wait...you...don't think that's weird? People generally don't come back from the dead."

"Shepard, I'm not in any kind of position to judge your motives, reasons and state of life," the turian shrugged. "Especially not after what went down on Omega. Right now I need ride out of here. Can you give me a lift?"

"Where to?"

"I was hoping you would know," Garrus admitted. "If you want a good rifleman, then I'm ready to help. Collectors taking down human colonies, fate of the galaxy at state, handful of desperate fighters out to stop them. Sounds like old times."

Antony crossed his arms. "You hated those old times."

"I hated you, not the mission," Garrus shot back. "Right at this moment, if I had a better option I'd take it. But I don't...I've got nothing."

It would be incorrect to say that Anthony B. Shepard felt pity for the turian at that particular moment. Sympathy for anyone wasn't a trait he had fostered. But right there and then, Shepard felt like he actually understood him.

"You've got your rifle. It's in the armoury," Shepard gestured to the wall. "We're heading to Korlus. You fit to provide overwatch from the Kodiak?"

"Just give me a box of thermal clips and some targets," Garrus straightened and gave a grudging nod towards Shepard. "Thanks. For the whole 'Rescue and Patch Up' thing."

"Let's not make a habit of it."

And the moment was gone.

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**INDEPENDENT COLONY HORIZON**

**IERA SYSTEM, SHADOW SEA**

**2300 HOURS, LOCAL TIME**

Representative Jacques was already waiting for the Alliance ship when it touched down. The arrival of a full platoon of Alliance N7s was big news on a colony like Horizon. Its independence was widely recognised, as was its disdain for the Alliance Navy. There was even talk of the colony withdrawing its signature from the Colonial Charter, an unthinkable for any colony that wished to receive Alliance aid in the event of an attack.

Jacques' orders were very clear. Greet the troops kindly, offer them every convenience available, then get them off the planet before the locals rioted.

The ramp on the light frigate opened, and for a second, Jacques was blinded by the bright light. When he could see again, he was greeted by the spectacle of two heavily armoured Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicles rolling toward him. Walking next to them was a lightly armoured human in his early thirties. Accompanying _him_ was a thin woman with greying hair and a large man who looked as though he existed on a diet of protein and barbells.

"Staff Commander Alenko?" Jacques extended his hand. "On behalf of Horizon colony, I am pleased to welcome..."

Kaidan pushed past him. "Representative Jacques, I'm not here on a PR mission so let's not waste time. How about we get to the point?"

Jacques found himself left behind, and had to hurry to keep up with the taller man's stride. "The point...? Commander, you have to understand, we are not an Alliance colony. Your presence here is...unorthodox."

"But fully permissible under the Colonial Charter," the woman spoke up. "We are legally entitled to establish ourselves on Horizon."

"Only at the invitation of the colonists," Jacques tried to gain the legal high ground. "There is no current threat to the security..."

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Kaidan turned to him. "I received orders from Alliance Fleet Command six hours ago. ONI has received actionable intelligence that Horizon is under imminent threat from either Cerberus or the Collectors."

"But which...?"

"Uncertain," Kaidan shrugged. "ONI wouldn't tell me their source, but they're concerned about his credibility. Not my job to be a spy, I just act on what they give me. My job is to establish a protection grid for all major settlements and organise your militia to fight off an attacking force."

"But we're not equipped to fight a war," Jacques was growing more disturbed by the second.

"You will be," Kaidan nodded at the burly man. "Lieutenant Vega, please escort the Representative back to the Administration building. Keep him out of my way."

Vega hustled the administrator out of sight. Kaidan turned to the older woman. "So, Commander Rizzo, what do you have for me?"

"ONI has very little at the moment," the spook informed him. "Admiral Hackett and Councillor Anderson are playing this one close to the chest."

"What about the rumours? Can you confirm whether Shepard is working for Cerberus?" Kaidan pressed.

"Currently, ONI isn't even sure if it's really Shepard," Commander Rizzo looked embarrassed. "Your orders are simple, Commander Alenko. If the Collectors attack, then kill them all and count the bodies. If Commander Shepard leads a Cerberus attack on this colony...you are to remove him as a threat."

"Remove?"

"With extreme prejudice."

Kaidan was silent. "I see."

"Will that be a problem?" Rizzo was not an unkind woman. "I wouldn't want you to be compromised by fighting your old mentor."

The younger man paused, as if recalling a previous event. "No, it won't be a problem. If Shepard's really gone rogue...I'll take him down."

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**A/N: For the record this won't be an S/S romance between Jack/Miri. I've been there, done that, and want to explore some other pairings.**


	22. Float and Sting

Changing Fate

Chapter Twenty Two: Float and Sting

I don't own BioWare

**KORLUS**

**BLUE SUNS PLANETARY HEADQUARTERS**

The Kodiak dipped slightly as it entered a crosswind. Crewman Rolston tightened his grip on the control column. If he stared out the window he knew he would see flashes of light signifying an intense firefight. Not for the first time, he appreciated just how easy his job was compared to most. Those on the ground ran the constant risk of death or injury. The only risk he ran flying the Kodiak was that of possible anti-aircraft fire from the ground.

"Hold it steady!" The voice of his one remaining passenger served as a reminder to stay focused. "Stabilize!"

"Sorry!" Rolston wrestled his shuttle back under control. "Levelling out now."

The sound of the turian's weapon discharging made Rolston shiver. Somewhere, down on the ground, another man had fallen to a well aimed bullet. It disturbed him. As hypocritical as it sounded, Rolston really _was_ a man of peace. He was nervous around guns, he hated using them, and he was a lousy shot. Cerberus hadn't recruited him for his martial prowess, they had hired him for his piloting skill. The cost of living on New Canton, plus a still flaring sense of patriotism had influenced his decision. That...and the smiling little girl waiting for him in the pre-fab back on the developing human colony.

So he kept his mouth shut, silenced his conscience and did the best he could. For humanity, and for his wife and baby daughter.

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Garrus rested the end of his barrel on the drop down armature. It acted as an effective firing aid, allowing him focus on pointing and shooting, without the additional worry of supporting the end of his weapon.

"Shepard, I see two heavies on the balcony, and a krogan beneath them. Krogan looks to be fighting them. May I make suggestion?"

=Make it quick= Shepard held his team back, waiting for Garrus to give them the go ahead. Beside him, Mordin and Zaeed double checked their weapons.

"That krogan could be one of the defects that we've heard radio chatter about. Maybe if we take out the Blue Suns, he'll give us intel on where to find Okeer."

=Or he'll just attack us instead= Shepard sounded...thoughtful. Garrus expected him to reject the suggestion out of hand. Instead, it sounded like he was actually considering it. =Alright, we'll try it your way=

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**NORMANDY SR-2**

**COMBAT INFORMATION CENTRE**

**ORBITING KORLUS**

"This is...unexpected." Jack pursed her lips as she examined the video footage coming up from the ground team. "Shepard..."

"Is..." Miranda had insisted on coming up to the combat deck, despite Jack's security concerns. The thief currently had an icepack pressed to her head. So far, she hadn't spoken about the incident down in sickbay and Jack had no intention of bringing it up.

"Acting unusually," Jack finished her sentence. "Antony's profile..."

"Antony?" Miri raised an eyebrow. "Getting personal with the boss now, cheerleader?"

"Commander's Shepard's profile," Jack corrected herself. "It shows a remarkable unwillingness to negotiate, to compromise on any front. He always follows a set plan, devised by either himself or a member of his 'inner circle'."

"So? He took a bit of tactical advice from Scarface," Miranda shifted the icepack slightly. Her hair was really growing now, almost to her ears. In a few weeks, she'd have her old flowing locks back. Conning and stealing her way across the galaxy had taught her to be ready to forsake luxuries and vanities, but when it came to her hair, The Ghost didn't compromise. "It's not like he's throwing daisies in the air and singing Kumbaya."

"No, but the way he's been acting ever since he got back is inconsistent with what I know of him," the operative frowned again. "His tactics are less rigid, shifting all over the place. One second he's charging in guns blazing, the next he's holding back, taking it slow. If it wasn't for his overt sexual harassment, I'd think I brought back the wrong person."

"Yeah," Miranda snorted. "Like you don't enjoy it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack was never one for hiding behind words and snide insinuations.

"You know exactly what it means," the convict was in a playful mood. Well, playful by her standards. "I know exhibitionism has its thrills, but a woman in your position really shouldn't indulge in it."

"How original," Jack turned to the other biotic. "What are you going to do next? Imply that I'm sexually promiscuous? That I get off on Shepard's attention?"

"What's the point of saying what everyone else already knows? Or is it just a coincidence that I smelled something funny in the women's bathroom after you had your shower?" Miranda sidled slightly closer.

"You're revolting." The XO informed her.

"I prefer the term 'sexually liberated'. But if you're a little too prim to make a move, I might just invite the Commander down to my bunk for a bit of stress relief."

"Extremely revolting."

"Possibly," Miranda admitted unabashedly. "Remember this, cheerleader. If I see something I want, I take it. I don't fuck around with roses and chocolate. I've been reliably informed by both sides that I'm a lot of fun in the sack."

Really?"

"Yep." The thief's hand idly wandered across the console, straying dangerously close to Jack's hips. "Why? You want to try your luck with The Ghost?"

Jack didn't think it was possible to express just how disinterested she was in a walking bag of bones. And even if the thief suddenly sprouted curves and a cultured personality overnight...well...Jack simply didn't swing that way. Every teenage boy's fantasy of every hot woman being a lesbian was exactly that, a juvenile fantasy brought about by raging hormones and the extranet. A cold shower and a rigorous exercise programme was the only cure.

"If you touch any part of my body, then I will break six of the bones in your hand," Jack spoke clearly, so there would be no misunderstanding. "I will also have you confined to your quarters on Deck Four."

"Oh relax, cheerleader," Miranda was having the time of her life. So the bitch _did_ have a Puritanical streak. That was going to be fun. "I'd honestly prefer getting jumped back in the shower on Purgatory. The fellas were twice as honest as you, and three times more appealing. Of course...that didn't stop me killing them when they tried...but the principle remains the same."

"You're a sad, strange person." This time Jack actually turned to address her. "And you have my pity. Now get out of my face and get the hell off my deck."

"Gladly," Miranda turned and swaggered toward the elevator. "I'll be in my bunk. Mind if I think about Shepard? Those big, strong arms of his, just sweeping me up..."

Jack tuned out the rest of the mindless droning that the other woman spewing out. She was slightly amused, but mostly appalled by the way Lawson acted. No sense of propriety, of self-discipline, of professionalism. She doubted whether it was possible for her opinion of the thief to sink any lower.

She cocked her head slightly, re-examining the camera feed. And yet...the other woman had a point. The scars were healing, his scruffy hair growing back, and that cocky grin was appealing...if you got past the personality, Shepard wasn't all that bad.

"Need more shoreleave Jack," she told herself quietly. "A lot more shoreleave."

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The smell was the first thing Miranda noticed when the ground team stepped off the Kodiak. Mordin, Zaeed and Shepard were stinking, their armour covered in...something. She coughed slightly to get their attention. "Something go wrong?"

"There was a little incident with some toxic gas," Shepard spoke stiffly. "Mordin came up with an antidote on the fly, then drenched us in it."

"Yeah," Miranda raised a hand to cover her nose. "Smells very effective."

"If you will excuse me," Shepard stiffly walked past her. "I have a shower to take."

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**ONE HOUR LATER**

"So...now that you've given yourself a name, I should probably introduce myself.." Shepard began. "I'm Commander Antony B. Shepard, this is the Normandy SR-2...and that nice lady pointing a shotgun at the back of your head is Miranda. Miranda, say hi to Grunt."

Miranda pressed the Eviscerator closer to the weak spot just above the krogan's fringe. "Hi. Put him down before I kill you."

The blue eyed behemoth turned his head to stare at her. "Human. Female. Biotic. Powerful. You will make a worthy second kill."

"You wish," Miranda snorted. "I took the precaution of loading explosive rounds. One squeeze of this trigger and you have to find yourself a new head."

"You threaten me, even though your superiority is doubtful. Impressive for a human." The krogan turned back to Shepard. "And yet she is cold. Dispassionate. She saves you because it is convenient, not out of loyalty. A good Battlemaster should command the undying savagery of his troops. You do not. You are not stronger than her, so she does not respect you."

"Kid's gotta point," Miranda admitted. "You're kind of a pussy at times Shep. Really badass one minute, then a whiny little bitch the next."

"Without a fight that's mine, one kill is as good as the next." Grunt tightened his choke hold. "Might as well start with you."

"That's a pity," Shepard was struggling for breath. "Because it just so happens I'm on a mission to wipe out a species."

The krogan immediately perked up. "You are?"

"Complete extermination, gotta clear out the whole stinking house," Shepard confirmed, nodding furiously. "Okeer told you about the Collectors, right?"

"The Collectors..." Grunt inhaled sharply, gazing past Shepard as images sprang into his head. "Pale hoards of soulless monsters, incapable of fear or pain. Unknown in numbers, possibly millions."

Antony was turning blue. He gasped out his last words. "Well...if...you're...afraid...?"

Grunt snapped out of his trance. He relaxed his grip, allowing Shepard to slump to the floor. "I am not afraid. My first campaign must be a mighty one. Time will tell if you are a great Battlemaster, Shepard. But for now, you have the quad to plan the deaths of those who do not know it. That is enough...for now."

"Glad you...saw reason," the CO groaned from the floor. Miranda rested her shotgun against her shoulder, looking down at the Commander with a quizzical look.

"You know, boss, those times when you act like a pussy...that was probably the best example of that. Just so you know."

"Whatever, give me a hand up..." Antony allowed her to pull him to his feet. "Now we have a krogan on the team."

"A homicidal maniac who's got the mental capacity of a baby," Miranda reminded him drily.

"Don't count him out yet," Shepard eyed Grunt cautiously. "I think he's a lot smarter than he's letting on."

"Yeah, well, your brain's suffering from lack of oxygen," Miranda turned toward the door. "Come on, I wanna show you something."

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"What you need is a hobby that doesn't involve anything violent," Kelly explained to her patient. "Something that will ease your stress and relax your mind. Writing poetry, for instance. Or painting."

"If I start painting, would you leave me alone?" Jack enquired.

Kelly shifted uncomfortably. "Well...no. But it would be a step in the right direction, massively assisting your current mental state."

"I'll consider it." Jack glanced at her watch. "Well, would you look at the time? Looks like your hour's up. You can see yourself out, Miss Chambers."

"Of course." Kelly hesitated. "Operative Harper...if we could speak more about the Arabis incident, I am sure we would..."

"Arabis is in the past," Jack turned back to her console. "Your job is here in the present. Dismissed."

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_**TURIAN HIERARCHY OUTPOST**_

_**CODENAME 'ARABIS'**_

_**2178**_

_Jackie used the shadows to hide herself. Her lightly padded suit was matte black, swallowing any light that touched her, not letting off any reflection that might reveal her. The Illusive Man had entrusted her this mission, a milk run really, with the intention of completing her training._

_Operative Tam was the best field expert on turians. Academics could lecture about turian caste structures, discuss socio-political dilemmas regarding the First Contact War, but Tam didn't care about any of that. Jackie had thought she knew all there was to know about turians, but Tam had demonstrated the uselessness of her university qualifications when applied to the field. He knew what made them tick, how they thought, how they operated. He could have talked all day about the colours that the turian eye did not perceive, or what relatively simple household items were lethal to a 'split jaw'._

_The best. And The Illusive Man knew that, appreciated it, and rewarded it. Tam was entrusted with making Jackie field ready, and he had done his job with gusto. Jackie had already been a skilled biotic, but Tam taught her combat. What knives to use on a turian, what firearms to use, what biotic attacks to focus on._

_The mission was meant to be a simple one. Get in, hack the relatively unprotected computer systems of the insignificant turian outpost, and then blow its power supply, forcing the turians to evacuate. No wet work required._

"_Tam? Are you at the computer core?" She whispered into her radio._

_=I'm inside= Tam replied. =Good work Jackie. We're almost done here=_

"Donovan Hock, a former Colonel and Assistant to the Deputy Chief of Army Intelligence in the Republic of Africa," Miranda dropped back onto her bed, tossing Shepard a pad. "Remember how I asked you for files on him, back on Purgatory?"

"This is the guy?" Shepard frowned at the suited figure. "Looks like a pussy."

"Perhaps, but he's a pussy who is rich, ruthless and trying very hard to be as smart as he needs to be," Kasumi pointed out. "And he's the type of pussy who doesn't hesitate to smash a man's head in to get something out of it."

"I've done that in the past," Antony was defensive. "Sometimes to get information out of people..."

"No, you stupid bastard," Miranda interrupted him impatiently. "Literally. He smashed in the head of a very good friend of ours, he was looking for something in his brain. And now he's got that thing. A greybox, a neural storage device that literally records sensory perception and stores it digitally. We want it back."

"And you want me to help you?" Antony looked less than impressed. "You want to put a mission to save millions of people on hold...so you can rip off a guy who killed your friend?"

Miranda and Kasumi looked at each other. Kasumi shrugged. "That's pretty much it, Shep."

Shepard measured his words carefully. He was trying to be more diplomatic in this 'second' life. Being resurrected was a fucked up experience, it had left some definite impressions on him. "Well, I'll consider it. But right now, we've got more important things to investigate."

"Like what?" Miranda protested. "I took a look at the files. There's no leads on the Collectors, just a bunch of dossiers."

"I want to go find my friend," Antony shot back. "When this goes down, we're going to need him."

"Ah yes, 'Commander Alenko'," the other woman snorted. "A goody two shoes Alliance officer who used to lick your boots."

Antony growled a warning. "He's a damn fine soldier and officer. And a top notch biotic."

"What do you need a biotic for?" Kasumi piped up. "You've already got Miranda and Jack."

"Let me make myself clearer," Shepard crossed his arms. "I need a biotic who's loyal to me. Someone I can trust. So far, I've got no one on this ship that I can talk to without them demanding something from me."

Miranda's brow creased, and she pursed her lip. "Okay."

"Okay...meaning what?"

"You do this..." Miranda nodded at the dossier. "And I'm in. All the way. Not just because I'm getting paid, but because I'll owe you. I'm good with my debts, Shepard. If you take a two day detour to do this for us, then me and Kasumi are in it till the last shot's fired."

Antony considered the offer. It made sense. He didn't just need troops for the fight. He needed fighters who were completely committed to the cause. A two day delay on the mission...for that kind of commitment to the mission...

"Deal."

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"This is his mansion," Jack had accessed every file available to her clearance level. She had been both surprised and pleased with Shepard's decision. If it meant stabilising rogue elements such as Kasumi and Zero, then she was all for it. Especially if it was Hock, he had been a stain on humanity's reputation for far too long. Currently, the briefing room's holo-projector was displaying a multi-dimensional representation of the target building. "Also a fortress. The lower levels were hard to scan, but our latest intel reports the existence of massive storage facilities. YMIR mechs, Infantry Fighting Vehicles, ballistic missiles, and several squadrons of gunships."

"We won't even see those," Kasumi tapped the table impatiently. "If everything goes to plan we'll get into the vault, nab the greybox, and get out before they ever know we were there."

"Noted, but we need to prepare for the worst," Jack frowned. "I'd recommend taking in a gift, something big. Hide weapons and armour in that. If you get caught, you can still fight your way out."

"I don't think you can tell us anything we don't already know about our job," Miranda sniped. "Do I tell you how to suck..."

"Moving right along!" Shepard interrupted. "Kasumi, you said that you've prepared cover ID's for us?"

"Correct," Kasumi handed him a dossier with a profile picture. "You'll be Solomon Gunn, a merc leader from the Terminus. I've prepared you a legend to fall back on. A few convictions for assault, ordinance trafficking, public indecency. I've also arranged for you to have an article printed in Badass Weekly."

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**HORIZON**

**TEMPORARY ALLIANCE BARRACKS**

Kaidan took a deep sip of his morning coffee as he picked up his regular copy of Badass Weekly. The Ilium publication was always an interesting read, providing him with an idea of what the scum of the galaxy were up to.

This morning, Intel had reported some news coming down the vine about some new scumbag called 'Gunn'. He had been making an easy living off Alliance convoys. That made him a person of interest to Kaidan.

Bringing up the front page, he spat most of his coffee out over the pages. Staring him in the face was the cocky visage of Commander Antony B. Shepard.

"Well, fuck me sideways." Alenko blurted out as the rest of his coffee spilled across his fatigues. What the fuck had Shepard been up to?

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"What about you two?" Jack indicated Miranda and Kasumi. "Cerberus can set you up with identities..."

"They wouldn't be suitable," Kasumi spoke before Miranda could summon up another insult. "Cerberus would make up some perfect ID's that would stand up to any scrutiny. We don't want that."

"Why not?"

"Because he's scum, princess," Miranda couldn't contain herself. "And we're pretending to be just like him..."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Jack crossed her arms. Miranda smiled patronisingly.

"Yeah, real funny. Anyway, we _want_ him to take a close look at our files. And we _want _him to find flaws, see things that don't add up, find financial statements that we can't legally account for. It means we're his kind."

"Alright, now that we've got that out of the way," Shepard shot Kasumi an exasperated glare. He was doing his best to keep Jack under control, but she needed to rein in her friend, and soon. "What are yours covers?"

"Miranda has an old fallback," Kasumi explained. "Sarah Walker. Former government badass, discharged for some very suspicious bank transfers. Crooks love working with that kind of person. Getting fired from being a spy for taking a bribe is about the most respectable kind of career transfer you can manage in this business."

"And you?"

Kasumi looked slightly humiliated. "I've got one I haven't used in ten years. It's...slightly dated...but it's the only one that Hock hasn't compromised."

"And it is...?" Antony pressed.

"...Anna Woo," Kasumi finally grated out. "Former electronics saleswoman on the Citadel, who decided she could make more as a stripper...then as an escort. I created it for a party on Ilium, the volus running it really loved humans."

"Is Hock going to buy that?" Miranda couldn't help but grin at her friend's expense. "This party is supposed to be for badasses."

"I've added a murder suspicion to the rep, a turian slave trafficker on Omega," Kasumi explained. "Hock loves his guns and private wars, but disapproves of slaving. Funny, huh? Anyway, if Donnie Boy gets curious and starts probing, he'll find some private mail between Woo and Gunn that confirm that she's his mistress. Some juicy emails between Woo and Walker should convince Hock that they're secret lovers behind Gunn's back."

"Okay, now this just sounds like the plot from a bad Fornax film." Jack leaned on the table. "Let's not be shy, we've all seen that episode, we've all role played that episode...hell, you two probably starred in that episode."

"Which is why Hock is gonna lap it up," Miranda used the same tone that she would use with a child. "The man's a sleezeball. He blows upwards of five hundred thousand credits each month on high class companions. Loves blondes and asari."

"And you take such a close interest because...?"

"I'm a professional, I do my research on my targets. Besides, its Cerberus intel, not mine."

Jack turned to Shepard. "Well, if you think it can be done, then I have no objections, Commander. But I really think I should accompany you, just in case."

"Three's company, four's a crowd," Kasumi interjected. "If Shepard walks in with a beautiful woman on each arm, Hock's impressed. He walks in surrounded by them? Hock feels threatened, his alpha male status is being challenged, he keeps a closer eye on Shep. That blows the whole plan out of the water."

"Besides," Miranda winked. "This is our field. You just run on back to your psychopathic experiments and political takeover intrigues. Leave the honest crimes to us."

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**A/N: I don't know if many of you are Chuck and Burn Notice fans, but if you are, then you might notice that when I characterise this AU Jack, I picture her as a cross between Carina (a recurring character on Chuck), and Fiona (a main character on Burn Notice). Tough, professional, but also wild when she wants to be.**


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